


Certain Truths

by astralelegies



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (my favorite tag), (my other favorite tag), Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice Fusion, F/F, Foe Yay, M/M, Modern Setting, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-10-10 15:05:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10440513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralelegies/pseuds/astralelegies
Summary: It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.All Yuri Plisetsky wants is some damn peace and quiet.(Chapter 10: Victor is smug, Yuri is stressed, and Otabek is far more suave than anyone would have thought.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Updates every Sunday by midnight (CST)

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.

All Yuri Plisetsky wants is some damn peace and quiet.

He means this in general, for quiet is a blessing seldom bestowed upon the Feltsman-Baranovskaya household, but also at this moment in particular, because he can hear Victor and Georgi’s overloud commiserations downstairs (something about the sorry state of their respective love lives) and it’s not yet past noon. He crams his head under his pillow, fully intending to roll over and go back to sleep, but now the latest addition to the day’s racket is hammering on his door. 

“Yuratchka, it is unbecoming of a young person in such good health to waste away the morning in bed.”

Yuri groans. It’s true that his mother Lilia’s vigorously disciplined ideals are to thank for most of his current successes, but that makes them no less of a pain to deal with. 

“I’m up,” he growls. 

“You have ten minutes.”

He doesn’t bother asking what exactly he has ten minutes _for_. 

When he stumbles down to the breakfast table precisely eleven minutes later, he finds that the earlier uproar has ceased, replaced by a very suspicious silence. This is not the quiet he so longed for, but rather a humming, anticipatory tension masked over by a façade of casualness.

“Have you seen this morning’s paper, Yura?” asks Victor, far too innocently. 

Yuri tries to think of anything he’s done recently that could land him in the gossip column, but his brother’s expression isn’t quite smug enough for that, so there must be something else at play. He scowls. 

“What is this, the nineteenth century?” He grabs it out of Victor’s hands and rifles through the pages.

At first he doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary—a few marriage and birth announcements, a puff piece on some local celebrity—and then he sees it. 

“‘The Longbourn community welcomes Dr Yuuri Katsuki, recent graduate of the medical programme at King’s College London, as he moves into the long-empty Netherfield Mannor’,” he reads aloud, as a growing sense of foreboding lodges itself in his stomach. “Please don’t tell me this is what I think it is.”

“You are all three growing into your careers and your adulthood,” says Lilia, ever businesslike, at the head of the table. “It’s time to start laying a solid foundation for your futures.”

“I’m barely _twenty_.”

“You think I would forget the age of my own son?” She shifts her gaze away from him. “Victor is the oldest and therefore the primary concern.”

Yuri doesn’t like to agree with her where matchmaking plots are involved, but Victor is, after all, twenty-seven and still living at home. He can’t blame her for wanting to get rid of him.

“I expect you’ve cooked up some diabolical scheme to get Victor to throw himself at our new neighbour?”

“Who needs a scheme?” Victor grins. “I can manage perfectly well with my own natural charms.”

“You’re a natural pain in the ass.”

“ _Language_.” 

“Has father returned yet?” Georgi asks, breaking in, and it is only then that Yuri realizes Yakov is not at the table with them. 

“Not yet,” Lilia says, “but he will soon if he knows what’s good for him.” 

Yuri can feel a headache coming on, and it’s only barely past midday. 

“Let me guess,” he says. “You’ve sent him off as a welcoming committee.”

“Only after he dragged his heels about it for more than an hour,” Victor says. “I don’t see why. I would have been happy to go in his place, but the magazine had me working late last night and I only just heard the news when I woke up an hour ago.”

Yuri thinks Lilia would probably have preferred to let Victor go in his father’s stead. Yakov is many things, but a good first impression is not one of them.

“I doubt they’ll have the patience to talk with him for more than twenty minutes,” says Lilia. “In that case, he should be back at any moment.”

As if on cue, there’s the sound of the front door slamming shut and heavy footsteps in the hall. Victor’s spine stiffens, eyes growing keen, but he continues to make his slow way through his breakfast, superficially unconcerned. Georgi too appears interested, though perhaps somewhat less so. Lilia remains as stern and unyielding as ever. 

“Yakov!” she calls. “Report.” 

He ambles into the dining room, his expression impudently unconcerned. 

“Weather’s nice today,” he remarks. “I’ve had enough of this damn snow.” 

“Yakov,” says Lilia, “how was your discussion with our new neighbours?” 

“Oh, that?” He takes a seat next to her at the head of the table. “At least let me have some breakfast first.” 

She drops a spoonful of eggs on his plate and folds her hands together. “Well?” 

“Dr Katsuki is twenty-four years old, in town to complete his first year as a Foundation House Officer with the local hospital. He grew up in London, but his family is originally from Japan and still owns a successful hotel in the Saga Prefecture.”

“Well-bred and training to become a doctor.” Lilia doesn’t smile, nor has she relaxed, but now most of her ire has been transformed to intrigue. “Anything else? What about his manners?”

“He seemed polite enough,” Yakov says, “though rather shy. I talked mainly with that friend he lives with.”

Lilia raises her eyebrows. “Friend?”

“Roommate,” Yakov amends. “Phichit Chulanont. I gather they met sometime during medical school. They’ve brought someone else with them, too, a Mr Otabek Altin. Apparently his family is some kind of big money in Kazakhstan.” 

Lilia nods, taking a thoughtful sip of her tea. “There must be something we can do to make them feel more at home in the neighbourhood.” 

“They’re throwing a party Saturday night,” says Yakov, oh-so-casually, though there’s an undercurrent of smug triumph to his tone. “We’ve been personally invited.” 

“Personally invited, you say.”

The gleam in Lilia’s eyes is positively dangerous. Yakov, having found his satisfaction in winding her up, is now ready to collude with her in the plotting process. This makes it high time for Yuri to vacate the area before he can be dragged into any of it. 

“Mother, Father.” He stands. “I’m meeting Mila at the library this mor—this _afternoon_ —to study.”

He isn’t, but Mila will come anyway if he grabs some food for her. He wraps a bagel in a dinner napkin and starts for the kitchen. 

“Wait for a moment, Yuri. We haven’t finished our conversation yet.”

He whirls around to glower at his mother. “I don’t see what any of this has to do with me. I’m not the one you’re trying to marry off.” 

“Marriage is a strong word,” Yakov says.

“We’re merely investigating a potential avenue of future opportunity,” Lilia says.

No matter how much diplomatic bullshit they try to cover it up with, their meddling amounts to the same thing. And there’s no point in trying to argue them out of it, not when they are each, in their own way, determined. 

“Whatever you want to call it,” Yuri says, “I’m not involved. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go study with Mila.” 

He stomps up the stairs to grab his textbooks from his room before anyone can protest.

At the library, Yuri fills Mila in on the events of the day while she polishes off the bagel he brought for her. 

“So your parents are scheming again,” she says, once he’s finished. He nods. 

“It’s no use trying to convince them otherwise,” he says. “They’re both too stubborn for their own good.”

“Now I know where you get it from.”

He glowers at her, but she only grins. 

“I don’t think it’s really as big a deal as you’re making it out to be,” she says. “Victor seems game enough. I’m sure he’s more than willing to play along and go after this doctor fellow. Let your parents have their fun.”

“I’ll let them have their fun,” Yuri says, sourly, “when it doesn’t involve messing with other people’s lives.”

Mila insists he’s exaggerating their intentions, but what does she know about it? Yuri has lived with Yakov and Lilia his entire life. He’s the town’s resident authority on convoluted schemes.

When the day of the party arrives, the whole of Yuri’s household is, predictably, in an uproar. Lilia wakes them all at nine in the morning (“just be glad it wasn’t seven in the morning, Yuratchka, and stop complaining”) to prepare them for the coming conquest. 

Victor, as is to be expected, spends several hours—and that isn’t hyperbole—fretting over what to wear. 

“You work for a fashion magazine,” Yuri says, addressing the pile of button-up shirts he assumes Victor is buried somewhere beneath. “Shouldn’t you be able to handle a dumb housewarming party?” 

“That’s exactly the problem,” Victor groans, the sound muffled by fabric. A second later he pokes his head out of the mound. “I work for a fashion magazine. I should be able to put together a decent outfit.” 

Yuri does not have time for his dramatics. He walks on, still refusing to get dressed, and stumbles across Georgi sprawled out on the hall carpet. Yuri pokes him with the tip of his toe to see if he’ll move, but he just flops over onto his other side, releasing an inordinately lengthy sigh. 

“Not you too.” 

“I only want—

Yuri steps over him and slams the door to his bedroom before he can continue. _Ridiculous_ , he thinks. Every single person in his family has gone mad—or more so than usual, anyway—and all because of the arrival of some mysterious stranger and his friends. (Actually, he doesn’t know if that’s why Georgi has prostrated himself in the middle of the floor. That’s just the sort of thing Georgi does.) 

Reluctantly he finishes readying himself, taking care to remain as dishevelled as he thinks his parents will allow. (He’s an _adult_. He shouldn’t have to deal with this.) Preparations finished, he drags himself down the stairs, where the rest of his family is already assembled. Lilia frowns at him, but he isn’t technically late, so she says nothing. 

By the time they arrive at Netherfield the party has already begun. Yuri slips through the front entrance and into the crowd before his mother can attempt to introduce him to their hosts. He manages to evade his family for the first half hour or so, lingering by the table of refreshments and ducking out of sight every time someone approaches him. 

His freedom, apparently, isn’t meant to last. As Yuri is making his way through the kitchen to what he thinks is a back exit, Victor appears out of the doorway ahead of him, blocking his path. 

“There you are. We were all wondering where you’d hidden yourself away.” 

“And now you’ve found me.” Yuri makes to shove past him, but Victor grabs his arm.

“Hold on a moment. We’ve only just arrived.”

“So? Go make nice with that doctor of yours and call me when we can finally leave.” 

“I thought I saw Mila earlier.” 

“You did not.”

“I did too. Come on, let’s see if we can find her.”

Reluctantly, Yuri allows himself to be led from his sanctuary. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be dancing with all of the eligible bachelors in town right now?” he asks.

“I’ve already danced with one,” Victor says, “and he’s the only one that counts.”

“You met Dr Katsuki?”

Victor nods. “Briefly, and we didn’t get to dance for very long. But I think—well, he seems nice, anyway.” 

“Only nice? After all the talking Mother has done about him, he’d better be a saint.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far yet,” says Victor, but he can’t supress a grin. 

As soon as they step back into the main room Victor gets whisked away by one of their neighbours, leaving Yuri once again to his own devices. He’s considering retreating back to the kitchen when he sees a familiar tangle of red hair only a few metres ahead of him.

“Mila.”

“Yuri.” She grins at him. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

“How’d you manage to wrangle an invite?”

“I am _deeply_ offended that you would refer to it as _wrangling_. I happened by on my way back from the library the other day and introduced myself to our charming hosts.”

Yuri snorts. “All that trouble for a stupid party.” 

“It’s been ages since anything exciting happened in this town. Besides, our new neighbours intrigue me. That Otabek Altin is quite attractive, don’t you think?”

“I haven’t seen him yet,” Yuri says, “but if you say so then I’m certain I’ll be unimpressed.” 

“Wanna bet?” Mila scans the crowd a moment, then points to someone at the opposite end of the room. “There. That’s him.” 

Yuri inspects him carefully. He isn’t very tall—a couple of centimetres shorter than Yuri, maybe—and his face looks so serious it’s almost comical. His jaw, Yuri has to admit, is finely cut, angular and sharp, and standing hunched in the corner with his brows drawn together he gives off a sort of brooding, mysterious aura. He also looks like he would rather be just about anywhere else, and for some reason this irritates Yuri. _No one_ is allowed to be more pissed off about getting mixed up in this mess than he is. 

Incensed and as impulsive as ever, he marches clean across the dance floor and shoulders his way up to Otabek. Up close, Yuri has the opportunity to appreciate more of his physique. He has a muscular build, from what Yuri can tell beneath the suit, with broad shoulders and strong forearms protruding from the sleeves of his dress shirt, which are rolled up to his elbows in a rakish, casual style. His coiffed undercut is newly shaven. 

None of that matters, of course. 

“Who do you think you are?” Yuri demands.

Otabek blinks slowly at him. “What?” 

“Why bother showing up if you’re just going to stand here sulking the whole time?”

“I’m sorry,” Otabek says, “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” 

“Yuri Plisestsky.” He doesn’t offer his hand for Otabek to shake. “You could at least act like it isn’t physically painful for you to be here.”

Otabek’s stoic facial expression has transformed into a definite frown now.

“I don’t see what business it is of yours.” 

“We’re in public,” Yuri says, “at _your_ party. You’re everyone’s business.” 

Otabek opens his mouth to make a retort, but just then someone clamps an arm around his shoulder, and his expression closes off once more.

“Look at you, socializing.”

Judging by the familiarity of his gesture, the stranger is one of the other two recent additions to the manor. Dr Katsuki? This man is young and easygoing, but he has a confidence that contradicts what Yuri has heard about Katsuki’s disposition. The roommate, then. What did Yakov say his name was?

“Phichit Chulananot,” the stranger says, and he does extend his hand. “You must be Yuri.”

“You’ve heard of me.”

“Naturally.” Phichit grins at him. “Your mother and older brother—Victor, wasn’t it?—mentioned you to me. They seem afraid you’ll spend the entire evening on your own, but I see that’s not the case.” 

“They should shove off and mind their own business,” Yuri mutters, and Phichit’s lip twitches.

“I can tell them that, if you’d like.”

“Go ahead.” 

“Charming, isn’t he?”

At first Yuri thinks this is directed at Otabek, but then another figure steps into view beside Phichit, bespectacled and hesitant. The infamous Yuuri Katsuki at last. 

“Yuri Plisetsky?” he asks. Yuri nods. 

“I tried to keep my brother from throwing himself at you,” he says, “but he never listens.”

Katsuki’s cheeks tinge faintly pink. “He didn’t—

“Yuuri.” Phichit puts a hand on his elbow (and Yuri notices that he still hasn’t released Otabek from his grasp). “Why don’t you go dance some more?”

“But I—

Phichit shoves him back into the crowd remorselessly. He withdraws his arm from around Otabek’s shoulders and claps him on the back. Otabek doesn’t wince, but a fleeting, pained expression crosses his face, like he’s been through this dozens of times and still hasn’t gotten used to it. 

“I suppose I should leave the two of you alone,” Phichit says, with an unpleasantly knowing smirk. 

“Actually,” says Otabek, “I was supposed to call my mother an hour ago. If you’ll excuse me.” 

He bows his head stiffly and vanishes. Phichit sighs. 

“One day you won’t sneak off on me like that, Otabek Altin.” He turns to Yuri. “I have to find my roommate before he drinks too much champagne and embarrasses himself.”

Perhaps Yuri has the wrong kind of friends, because if it were him and Mila in that position, she’d be giving him the champagne herself. Then Phichit continues. 

“Last time nobody got pictures, but I’m determined to make up for that tonight.” 

Ah. Of course. 

Phichit gives him another grin before striding back into the crowd. Yuri lets out a long breath, scanning the room for Mila or a member of his family so he can convince them to get out of here. He supposes he could just call a cab and head back to the house by himself, but then he’ll have to deal with his mother reprimanding him for it all the next morning. 

He runs into Georgi, who regales him, starry-eyed, for fifteen minutes about some girl he met from out of town. When he finally manages to excuse himself Mila launches out of the crowd to pull him into a dance. (“Why _me_? There has to be some girl here you can subject yourself to instead.” “Yura, kindly shut up.”) When that’s finished he really is hungry, so he wades his way back through the partygoers to the kitchen.

As he’s getting ready to abscond with a sizeable portion of one of the remaining dishes—something Japanese and delicious, with egg and vegetables and pork cutlet—when he catches his name amidst a murmured conversation in the hall outside. Lowering his bowl, he creeps closer to the doorway.

“…hot-tempered, but the oldest one seems nice enough. Isn’t that right, Yuuri? How many times have you danced with him now?”

“O—Only twice.”

“Liar. I count three times at least.” 

Katsuki sniffs dismissively. 

“Anyway,” he says, “I really thought you were going to dance with his younger brother, Otabek.” 

“Yuri? He was rather rude with me earlier.”

“That can’t have put you off. Is he not attractive enough for you?”

“He is…tolerable.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

That voice belongs to Phichit, Yuri is sure. He sounds amused. It takes Otabek a few moments to answer.

“It will take more than what that boy has to offer,” he says at last, “to get me to dance.” 

_More than I have to offer…_

In general, Yuri has to admit that he is relatively easy to aggravate, and he certainly harboured no intention of dancing with Otabek Altin in the first place, but _this_. This is an insult to his personal character of the kind he cannot forgive, and one made by a man who barely knows him. He’s more than half-tempted to burst into the hall right now and accuse Otabek of slander in front of everyone, but something holds him back. 

If Otabek has decided to hate him, what is there to stop Yuri from returning the favour in kind? That asshole can bring it on, because there are very few things Yuri is better at than devoting himself wholeheartedly to pure, unfiltered loathing. 

Resolved to his purpose, he whirls around, storming back into the great hall with an almost gleeful malice. When he leaves the party later with his family, there is only one thought that reverberates in his mind:

As of tonight, Otabek Altin is his enemy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only the second chapter and I’ve already had my first late update! Blargh. I finished a TV series I’d been watching for several months yesterday, and it was…a very emotional ending, to say the least, so I’m using “being emotionally compromised” as my excuse. And midterms. (Maybe I should’ve opened with the midterms?) Anyway, I shall strive always to be as timely as possible, but I am, of course, merely a beleaguered undergraduate with too much homework and love for fictional universes.

In the weeks that follow, to Yuri’s immense satisfaction, Otabek Altin becomes not just his own personal enemy, but something of a nuisance to the neighbourhood as well. He’s only just moved in and there are already rumours circulating at the grocer’s about his poor manners and snobbery. At this rate, Yuri thinks with relish, he’ll be run out of town by the time summer comes.

Dr Katsuki, on the other hand, is by all accounts a charming, if soft-spoken, individual. The town isn’t quite sure what to make of Phichit. He has an easy, friendly manner that seems to endear him to most of the people he meets, but he also has a propensity for mischief, and Longbourne doesn’t like mischief. 

Now that they’re properly settled in, they’re beginning to get involved in the community, and as much as Yuri tries to avoid Otabek, he seems to keep popping up at the most inopportune moments. It’s almost uncanny—neither of them is very fond of social events, so why should the few they’re forced to attend have to coincide? 

It’s probably the fault of his parents’ meddling, at least in part. They don’t even need to tell Victor to throw himself at Katsuki anymore—he’s become enamoured enough do ruin his dignity with enthusiasm. He’s taken to the new doctor as quickly as he takes to any of his latest flings. Yuri wonders if he should start casting bets on how long it’ll last. 

And because Victor needs (at twenty-seven, the immature bastard) a “chaperone” when he goes to visit Katsuki, and because Katsuki lives with Otabek, Yuri is forced to grit his teeth through more annoying small talk than he can stomach. 

“How do you like the weather?” he asks, forcing the pleasantry through clenched teeth, as he and Victor are sitting down to tea with their hosts. They’ll often be invited on some weekend afternoon, if Dr Katsuki isn’t too busy, even such a miserable one as this. It rained all morning, and now the grounds have been overtaken by expansive, muddy puddles, which all but ruined Yuri’s new shoes. Through the window of the sunroom, the sky appears the same smudged, blue-black colour of a bruise, clouds threatening to drip down again at any moment. 

Otabek doesn’t seem to notice. He answers Yuri’s question with a brusque “just fine, thank you” and returns to frowning at his computer screen. Phichit and Katsuki exchange knowing half-smiles. Yuri opens his mouth to retort, but before he can get a word in, Victor stomps down on his toe under the table. 

“What was that f—

“So Yuuri.” Victor folds his fingers together, fixing the man across the table with one of his wider smiles. “How have you been enjoying country life? It must be quite an adjustment, coming from London.” 

“Not too much so.” Yuuri takes a dainty sip of his tea. “I grew up in London, but I spent a lot of time at my family home overseas, in a small town off the Kyushu coast.”

“My father mentioned that to me. What town?”

“It’s called Hasetsu. We have a hotel—an onsen, we say—on the hot springs there.”

“It must be quite lovely. I hope someday I may have the opportunity to see it.”

Yuri rolls his eyes, and Otabek, who has chosen that exact moment to glance up from his work, tilts his head in a silent question. Yuri scowls at him. 

Phichit, of course, notices.

“Yuri,” he says, eyes glinting in a way that reminds his younger houseguest of Victor at his most devious, “what on earth could you be frowning about on a day like this?” 

“It _is_ rather dreary out,” Victor remarks, sparing Yuri an explanation, and if he was a more charitable person he’d acknowledge his gratitude. 

The conversation moves on, and Yuri returns to his brooding. It isn’t just the teas he’s dragged to like this one that are the problem. He’ll be out at a party, minding his own business, and Otabek won’t even have crossed his mind before he spots him across the room, sour and sullen-faced as ever. 

Sometimes Mila will be with him, which makes the situation marginally better, because at least then they can trade snarky criticisms with each other, though Mila often chastises Yuri for being too harsh. 

They’re at a party together, something hosted by one of their richer neighbours whose parents are out of town, and of course, Otabek is in the other room, accompanied by Katsuki, who is drunk, and Phichit, who is egging him on.

“Egging him on _responsibly_ ,” Phichit told them when they arrived. “Besides, Otabek’s here and he’s driving. He won’t let either of us do anything too stupid.”

“Bet that’s the only reason they keep him around,” Yuri muttered to Mila, who snorted into her champagne. Otabek caught the comment and gave him a hard look, and if Yuri had been anyone else he might have felt guilty, but the look on Otabek’s face wasn’t hurt, exactly. It was something Yuri couldn’t puzzle out, and he didn’t want to make the effort. 

Now, Mila’s expression has a drawn, pensive look to it, and Yuri has the sinking feeling she’s about to actually be serious. 

“Have you noticed anything unusual about Victor lately?” she asks.

“I think he’s been annoyingly normal,” Yuri says. “Carrying on about his emotions all the time, and everything else he always does.”

“He seems…reserved.”

“Victor? Reserved? I don’t think that word is even in his vocabulary.”

Mila frowns slightly, and Yuri thinks she might actually be worried. 

“What do you mean?” he asks her. 

“He’s usually so effusive,” Mila says. “You’re always talking about how you have to pry him off the object of his affections by force.”

Yuri wishes that last part were hyperbole. He nods slowly. “Go on.” 

“But he held himself back at the housewarming party. And from what you’ve told me, he doesn’t seem to be behaving as outrageously as usual. He didn’t even come with us tonight, and normally he’d jump at the chance to go out on a Friday.”

“I guess.” Yuri shrugs. “Katsuki has only been in town for a few weeks. I don’t think Victor’s had much opportunity to be ridiculous yet.”

“If there is one thing we can agree on,” Mila says, “it’s that Victor is _always_ ridiculous.”

Yuri doesn’t need to give her the satisfaction of saying she’s right—they both know it’s true. He knows, too, that she has a point: Victor has been suspiciously quiet lately, at least by his standards. (And by his standards he isn’t nearly as quiet as Yuri would like, but he wonders if he ought to be concerned.) 

Even if he is (just a little, in the tiny, insignificant back corner of his brain that he never pays attention to anyway), he doesn’t say anything about it. He prefers to avoid any mention of Katsuki altogether when Victor is around, but of course even that can’t stop him from ceaselessly wearing out the subject. 

Several evenings later he’s in the living room going over some of his textbooks—he has exams coming up in just a few weeks, and for that his family has had the decency to subdue some of their usual antics. Lilia and Georgi are out shopping, and Yuri doesn’t know where Yakov is. Victor has been keeping a low profile, but around dinnertime he wanders into the parlour and begins browsing listlessly through the bookshelves. 

“I made food for us,” he says. “Grandpa’s pirozhki recipe. I can bring you some if you’d like.”

“That’s generous of you.”

“I’m happy to do anything for my dear brother.”

Yuri’s eyes narrow. “What’s wrong?”

“I haven’t the faintest clue what you’re talking about.”

“You’re acting nice. It’s suspicious.”

“I,” says Victor, clapping an emphatic hand over his heart, “am _always_ nice.”

Yuri just folds his arms and waits. After a moment, Victor sighs.

“Okay,” he says, “I need a favour.”

“I knew it. What is it, booking the chapel so you and Katsuki can elope?”

“Will you just listen?” Victor lowers his voice. “He and Phichit have invited us to spend the weekend at the manor with them, and I want you to come too.”

“What do you need me for?”

“I don’t want to come on too strong.”

“ _You_ , afraid of coming on too strong?” Yuri shakes his head. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Yuuri’s shy,” says Victor. “I have to be careful not to tread on his boundaries.” 

Yuri frowns again.

“Victor,” he says slowly, “don’t you think you’re being a little _too_ careful?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he says, “you’re so busy giving him his space that he might not realize you’re interested.”

Now it’s Victor’s turn to frown.

“I’ve been perfectly polite,” he says. “But I also want to be respectful.”

“I know,” says Yuri. “Forget it. It’s just something Mila mentioned.” 

“So are you in or not?”

“That depends.” Yuri folds his arms. “I’m not exactly thrilled about spending a couple nights in the same house as Otabek Altin. What’s in it for me?” 

“I still don’t understand why you insist on hating him so much,” Victor says. 

Yuri rolls his eyes. “I told you the story a million times. Even mom doesn’t like him.”

“Yes, well. Our mother has standards.” 

“So you _do_ admit he’s terrible?”

“I admit nothing of the kind. Any potential romantic partner has to be a veritable superhero to satisfy Lilia.” 

“I’ll ignore the gross ‘romantic partner’ part,” Yuri says, nose wrinkling, “if you give me one good reason why I should accompany you this weekend.”

“I’ll keep the flirting to a minimum.”

“I won’t have to endure your flirting at all if I don’t come with.” 

“I can owe you a favour,” Victor offers.

“Anything?”

“Anything. I promise.”

Yuri shakes his head. “You must really be desperate. You’re definitely going to regret this later.”

Victor smiles at him, and it’s disgustingly genuine. “I’ll count on it.”

The appointed morning dawns three days later, and Yuri spends most of the time before they’re set to leave making faces at his half-packed suitcase. Victor is fussing over everything, which he always does when he’s nervous, even as he staunchly pretends otherwise. 

It’s raining when they depart, which seems fitting. (It always seems to rain when Yuri is about to meet his nemesis.) Halfway to the manor the car breaks down, and Victor insists they walk the rest of the way, since it’s less than a kilometre. They drag their suitcases through the oncoming downpour, both drenched by the time they arrive at Netherfield’s front door. Katsuki rushes out of the hall to greet them, fretting over the sorry state they appear in and apologizing for not coming to pick them up.

“If you had just called me—

“I didn’t want to be a bother,” Victor says, for about the fifth time. “It wasn’t any trouble. Really.”

They all ignore the tiny puddle forming on the carpet as water drips from his clothes. He sneezes. 

“And now you’ve caught a cold.” Katsuki takes him by the arm and leads him over the threshold. “I’m afraid I’m not putting on a very good showing for myself as host.”

“Nonsense, you’re doing splendidly.” 

Yuri can already tell that they’re going to be insufferable this weekend. At least he gets his own room. It’s big, too, for a guest room—bigger than his own bedroom at home. And it’s on the other side of the house from where Victor is staying (he’s located suspiciously closer to Katsuki’s wing), so that’s a definite plus. 

He contemplates calling Mila to give her a report on the proceedings so far, but there isn’t really anything to tell, unless he wants to catalogue the amount of real marble in the bathrooms. Dinner is in a half hour anyway, and in a house like this he almost feels compelled, against his usual nature, to do something to make himself look more presentable. His hair still hangs in clumps around his face from the rain, and there’s mud on the cuffs of his pants. Sighing, he opens his suitcase and rifles through it for something clean. 

He’s just pulling on a fresh pair of jeans when there’s a knock at the door. He yanks it open, assuming it’s Victor come to harass him about something, but instead Otabek stands out in the hall. His eyes rake over Yuri—only mostly dressed, shirt half-buttoned and pants half-down—and flushes.

“I can come back later.”

“No.” Yuri glares at him, finishing with his shirt buttons and running a hand through his hair. “You’ve already barged in, so you’d better tell me what you came here for.”

It takes him a moment to recover himself, and then he realizes he’s been staring and ducks his head, clearing his throat. 

“Yuuri was wondering if you have any special requests for your katsudon.”

“Tell him I’m fine with whatever.”

Yuri shuts the door on him before he can respond and sets about fixing his appearance. Thirty minutes later he finds his way down to the dinner table (miraculously without getting lost) to find Victor already seated, with Phichit to his left and Otabek across the table. (“Across the table” meaning next to Yuri, who glares daggers at his brother. Victor ignores him.) Katsuki emerges from the kitchen, bowl in hand, and places it in front of Yuuri. 

“A family tradition,” he says. “I hope you enjoy.” 

At Victor’s behest, he mumbles a thank-you, and finds that the dish is really quite good. 

“A doctor and a chef,” Victor says, beaming at their host. “I’m beginning to wonder if there are any skills you _don’t_ possess.”

Katsuki’s face goes red, and he drops his gaze to his own meal. 

“The credit belongs to my mother, not me,” he says. “It’s her recipe.” 

It’s fortunate that he is, in fact, a halfway decent cook, or Yuri would hurl all over the table at the eyes he and Victor are making at each other. Phichit watches them fumble through a conversation with subtle amusement, while Otabek remains impassive. Yuri frowns into his food and tries to interact as little as possible. 

Phichit, who in all their teas together is usually the most fond of pulling him out of his solitude, (if Victor isn’t busy doing the same), seems too preoccupied by the sappy not-couple to be of much hindrance. And so the first portion of the meal passes relatively uneventfully. It’s almost enough to lure Yuri into a false sense of security, but after the sun sinks low on the horizon and their ties are loosened, Phichit manages to get Otabek Altin to open his mouth. 

“You know, Otabek, you never did tell me about that library you have at home.” 

Yuri thinks he catches a slight arch in Otabek’s left eyebrow as he answers.

“I don’t think that’s quite relevant to the subject of flowers in a Hasetsu spring.” 

“Cherry blossoms,” says Phichit, “books. What’s the difference?”

“Now I’m intrigued,” Victor says. “An entire library?”

“A _modest_ library.” Otabek frowns, seeming to sense that he can’t wriggle out of speaking now. “My family has long gathered books, adding to the collection with each generation. I merely continue the tradition.”

“It’s a pity you couldn’t bring any of them here with you,” Phichit says. “I caught Yuri browsing our shelves earlier, but we really do have a meagre assortment.”

“Yuri?”

He glares across the table at Otabek. “Yes, I exceed the minimum standard for literacy in this country. What a surprise.” 

“Otabek likes a person who’s well-read.” 

Otabek’s gaze is back down at his bowl, and his voice is hushed. “How do you know what I like, Phichit?” 

The air at the table now is subdued with a quiet tension. Katsuki runs his finger along the tablecloth, tracing out the pattern with his eyes lowered. Victor’s expression is neutral but guarded, watching the other half of the table carefully with tight lips. 

“I’m only making an observation,” says Phichit, and his voice, though at a normal volume, rings out overloud in the near-silence. “If I’m wrong, then by all means—correct me.”

Katsuki chooses that moment to look up. “Phichit, maybe we should—

“No.” Otabek too lifts his head, staring him down. “I’ll give you your answer.” 

Phichit smirks triumphantly. “You see, Yuuri? Nothing to worry about.”

“Many people,” says Otabek, “are easily satisfied by trivial accomplishment. But I believe in doing so they miss out on noticing where true accomplishment really lies.”

“And what, in your mind, would that be?” 

“True accomplishment lies in ambition. Dreams mean nothing if you don’t have the drive to pursue them. Time is so fleeting, why sit around and waste it? You must take the time you have and make it yours, use it to find every opportunity to do what it is you want. Never stop moving forward until you reach your goal, and once you obtain it, set a new one.” 

From the looks on their faces, neither Phichit nor Katsuki has ever heard him say this much in one sitting. It’s enough to render Phichit silent, if only for a moment. 

“So you like people with drive.” 

Otabek seems to have decided that his speech contained enough words to last him several days, and says nothing. 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with ambition,” Katsuki says. “It’s an admirable trait.”

“But not very difficult to come by,” says Phichit. “Everyone has some dream they’re working towards.”

“But not everyone follows through.” Yuri levels a fierce look at Otabek, and he stares resolutely back. “What about you? Is it really your ambition to work for your parents’ company for the rest of your life?”

He remains silent. Katsuki claps his hands. 

“I completely forgot about dessert!” 

He scurries into the kitchen, and returns with a tray of pound cake and fruit. He and Victor pick up the threads of their previous conversation while they eat, and Phichit joins in, while Otabek and Yuri stay quiet. At one point in the evening Yuri catches Otabek giving him a strange look, though his gaze skitters quickly back to his plate as soon as he’s caught. Yuri’s mind is drawn inexplicably back to that party with Mila, only last week. Otabek is wearing the same expression now. It’s partially comprised of thorough exasperation, and that, at least, is a sentiment Yuri can return. 

When they leave the table he finds he’s actually quite tired, and excuses himself to his room. He fires off a quick text to Mila— _the suffering has already begun_ —before he crashes.

 _It’s only two more days until I go home_ , he thinks as he drifts off. _I can handle it._


	3. Chapter 3

Phichit and Yuri are not content to let them stay for a mere weekend. Their hospitality extends well into the next week, and every time Victor protests about encroaching Phichit loudly complains about how difficult it is to get used to the crushing solitude of country live. It’s an excuse to spend more time with Katsuki, so Victor doesn’t claim too much. 

The winter holidays are coming up soon, and now that classes are out of session Yuri has a week off from uni to prepare for his final exams. He has no excuse, and therefore no means of escape. He consoles himself with the food, and with the knowledge that once this is all over, Victor will owe him the biggest favour of his life. 

Victor has decided to pass the time by acting ridiculous about that cold he caught on the day of their arrival. Privately Yuri suspects it’s all a ploy to get _Dr_ Katsuki to fuss over him, but Victor will only deny it if he tries to bring it up. At least he’s keeping himself occupied with something that isn’t pestering his younger brother. 

Phichit, meddlesome busybody though he is, has proven to be an entertaining personality, if a little overfond of his social media feed. Yuri has already been subjected to more selfies than he would have thought possible, but with the manor in the background he feels a little like a celebrity, so it isn’t too bad. 

Most of the time, Yuri is left alone with his books, which is just fine by him. He usually stays cooped up in his room, sprawled across the bed, his laptop and pages of notes scattered across the duvet. Sometimes he’ll wander down to the library for a change of scenery or to peruse the shelves, but more often than not Otabek will be there, typing away at his work, and Yuri is forced to move elsewhere. 

Once, Otabek notices him as he comes in, and pauses, eyes torn between the intruder and his screen. 

“You can quit staring,” Yuri tells him. “I’m just leaving.”

It occurs to him that Otabek might find his presence disruptive, so he decides to take as long as possible as he pretends to search for a particular book. 

“Would you like some help?” 

“Not if it’s from you.”

Yuri can hear Victor scolding him in his mind, but he doesn’t care. _Otabek was rude first._ He resumes his typing, and Yuri scans his options. 

The library at Netherfield isn’t very extensive, at least not for its size—Yuri is sure they have nearly as many books in their collection at home, and the Feltsman-Baranovskaya household is much smaller. He recognizes a few titles, some of which he’s quite fond of, and pulls down a copy of a novel he remembers thinking looked interesting a few years back. 

“That one’s not worth the read,” says Otabek, and Yuri blinks at him. Otabek ducks his head. “I only meant…never mind.” 

Yuri arches an eyebrow at him. “What would you recommend instead?”

Otabek stands, crossing the room to stand next to him, and scans the shelves. After a moment he plucks a book from its resting place and deposits it in Yuri’s hands. 

“This.”

Yuri turns it over, glancing at the summary. He wants to drop the book on Otabek’s foot, but he’s a little intrigued in spite of himself. After a moment he forces himself to tear his eyes away and thrusts the offending object at Otabek’s chest.

“Any book you’d give me is probably rubbish.”

“I’m sorry you have such little faith in my taste.”

“That’s just it. I’m sure it’s the kind of pretentious garbage people who think they have good taste always go on about.” 

“If that’s what you think.” 

Otabek sits, pulling his computer back onto his lap. Yuri waits a beat, and then glares at him.

“That’s it?”

“What?”

“Aren’t you going to argue with me?”

Otabek shrugs, not even glancing up. “Your mind is set. I’d be a fool to try and change it.” 

“If that’s how you feel, maybe I will read your dumb book after all.”

“Do what you want.”

Yuri has the dreadful sensation that no matter what he says he’s already lost. He snatches the book back and storms out of the room with it, cheeks flaming. (He reads the entire thing in one sitting, later that afternoon, and it kills him to admit that it really is very good, not that he’ll ever say so to Otabek.) 

One evening Katsuki stops by his room to ask about Victor’s favourite movie. 

“He hasn’t been feeling well,” Katsuki explains. “I thought I’d rent something for us to watch together tonight.”

Yuri raises an eyebrow. “Why not just ask him yourself?”

“Oh, um…” Katsuki shifts, blushing faintly. “I wanted to surprise him.”

“Of course you did.” Yuri ushers him inside and closes the door. “For secrecy.” 

Katsuki looks at him with wide eyes, like he’s about to impart the greatest wisdom in the universe. 

“I won’t tell you a specific film,” Yuri says, “because if you want to impress him you should make the choice yourself.”

Katsuki’s face falls, and Yuri holds up a hand. 

“I’m not finished yet. If you were to pick—I don’t know, a period costume drama with a high production value and lots of romance—I think he’d like that very much.”

The way Katsuki beams at him is thoroughly ridiculous, and for a moment he looks so happy that it makes Yuri a little happy too. And then something melancholy creeps in, and he shoves emotion aside. 

“Just remember that you didn’t hear any of this from me,” he says, turning his head away. 

“My lips are sealed.” Katsuki pauses in the doorway. “Thank you, Yuri. Really.” 

“He likes you, you know.” 

Yuri doesn’t know what made him say it. Katsuki’s eyes register faint surprise, and then he nods, slow and cautious. 

“He’s bad at talking about things. You might have to…prompt him. Or he’ll flirt with you until the world ends and never go any further.” 

“Prompt him.” Katsuki swallows. “I can do that.” 

“You’d better take care of him.”

Yuri’s mouth is going to dig him into an early grave, and it’s his face that’s flaming now. Katsuki gives him a soft smile. 

“I can do that too.” 

The next night Yuri makes his way downstairs to return Otabek’s recommended book to the library (after rereading it, which he definitely, _definitely_ isn’t mentioning to anyone), and is confronted with the sight of his three housemates gathered around an actual record player in the middle of the room. The fourth is stationed in the corner behind his computer, and Yuri isn’t sure if Otabek has moved at all in the past several days. 

He steps forward, and Victor brightens at his approach. “Yuri!”

“Victor, what’s going on?”

“A social gathering,” Victor says, and he manages to sound both cheerful and lofty at the same time. “You _must_ join us, Yuri. Please?”

“A social gathering,” says Yuri. “With five people. All of whom have been living together for the past several days. Exhilarating.” 

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“We were going to invite some others,” says Phichit, “but all our friends are still back in London.”

“Phichit!” Katsuki gasps in mock horror and claps a hand over his roommate’s mouth. “Don’t let them know our secret.” 

“We just thought we’d have a nice evening all together,” Victor tells Yuri. “Grab some food, put on some music, maybe play a board game or watch a movie. It’s been ages since you joined us for dinner.”

“If by ‘ages’ you mean two days,” says Yuri, but he decides, just this once, to comply, because he really doesn’t feel like doing any more studying tonight. 

Victor begins going on about album selections, while Yuri is confronted with the problem of trying to return Otabek’s book to the shelves without the other boy noticing. He _seems_ like he’s buried in his work, as usual, but he’s a sneaky one, and sometimes Yuri thinks he catches him glancing over out of the corner of his eye. 

Carefully, Yuri creeps over to the nearest bookcase and slides the volume in the middle of a row of mystery novels. It’s obviously out of place, but he can’t worry about that now. 

“So what do you think?”

His attention snaps back to the rest of the room, and to Phichit’s expectant face ahead of him. He realizes that they’ve started up some music, and Victor and Katsuki are waltzing poorly in circles around the carpet. 

“Um…what?”

“Otabek won’t ask you to dance,” says Phichit, “so I will on his behalf.”

Otabek, still stationed atop his couch in the corner, slams down his laptop cover so forcefully Yuri jolts. Otabek’s cheeks are stained faintly red, or maybe that’s only a trick of the light, but he speaks with as much dignity as he can muster. 

“Phichit.”

“That’s a dangerous tone of voice.” Phichit flashes a grin at both of them and doesn’t retreat. “Alright, do what you want. But the two of you have been brooding alone for far too long. It seems dreadfully uninteresting.”

With that, he whirls around, grabbing Katsuki away from Victor to pull him into a spin. Katsuki trips and nearly falls on top of him, and they laugh. Otabek sets down his computer and takes a tentative step towards Yuri. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I promise I didn’t put him up to that.”

“It makes no difference,” says Yuri, shrugging. “Either way I’m not going to dance with you.” 

“I didn’t think so.” Otabek pauses. “That suits me just fine.” 

Yuri snorts. “You really do know how to give a compliment, Altin.” 

Otabek frowns at him, though it’s in confusion and not irritation. Is he really so unaware of his own limited social graces? _He truly must be arrogant_. 

“If I’ve offended you in any way…

“Forget it. It doesn’t matter.” 

They leave it at that. Eventually Otabek wanders back towards the couch, though he doesn’t resume his work. He hovers at the edge of his seat cushion, and several times he seems like he’s about to approach Yuri again, and then changes his mind. Yuri almost asks him about it, against his better judgement, but then Katsuki brings in their food, and by the time he’s free of that distraction he’s forgotten. 

The following afternoon, he and Victor set off for home once again.

“I don’t suppose there’s anything we can do to make you stay longer?” Phichit throws on a pastiche of a beguiling expression. “I could persuade Yuuri to make katsudon again.” 

“Tempting as that is,” says Victor, “we really should be getting home. I’m afraid we’ve overstayed our welcome.”

“Nonsense. If anything, you’ve understayed it. Isn’t that right, Yuuri?”

“You’re welcome to leave,” Katsuki says, graciously, “but you’re just as welcome to stay.”

Victor wants to, Yuri can tell, so he grabs him by the arm and tugs him down the front steps. 

“Thank you for your hospitality,” he calls gruffly over his shoulder. Victor waves. Katsuki blushes. 

When they arrive back at the house, Victor disappears to his room, but Georgi stops Yuri in the doorway.

“There’s something you should know before you go in.”

Yuri’s brow furrows. “Yes?”

“Do you remember JJ Leroy, our old neighbour?”

As if anyone could forget a prick like JJ. Yuri scowls, sensing the direction this conversation is headed.

“No.”

“I’m afraid he’s come to stay with us.”

“ _No._ Absolutely not.”

_Out of the frying pan and into the fire._ If there’s one person on this planet Yuri hates more than Otabek, it’s JJ Leroy. 

“Why is he here?”

Georgi gives a shrug and a grunt, stepping out of the way, and Yuri barges through the entrance. 

“Mother. We need to have a talk.” 

“Yuratchka.” Lilia stands in front of him in the entry hall, arms folded. “You’re home.”

“Why did you invite JJ Leroy to stay with us?” 

“It’s only for a couple of nights,” she says, like it’s nothing. “After that he’s putting up with the hotel.” 

“He’ll _still_ be here? I thought he moved to London five million years ago.”

“Five years ago, not five million.” The corner of Lilia’s mouth twitches in what might be the shadow of a wry smile. “He’s here on business. His firm is hiring, you know. He mentioned the possibility of an internship to me. A _paid_ internship, over the summer.”

“I don’t care how much money he offers me,” Yuri declares. “I’m never going to work with him.”

Lilia tsks and makes some comment about a lack of willingness to pursue his future goals, which of course is nonsense. Yuri has always been clear where his future is concerned: he will accomplish everything he sets out to, and that’s final. End of discussion. It doesn’t matter what sacrifices he has to make along the way. But being forced to share an office with JJ—that’s a depth he’s not yet desperate enough to sink to. 

Yuri heads for the stairs, hoping to deposit his belongings in his room in peace. 

“You’ll be down for dinner, won’t you?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so.” 

Yuri drops his bags on his bed and takes few moments to compose himself. He sucks in a deep breath, letting it out on a sigh that isn’t as satisfying as the yell of frustration he’d like to release. When he was younger, most of his family assumed he’d grow out of his hotheaded tendencies after he passed through puberty—being a belligerent teenager is one thing, but adults aren’t supposed to be similarly moody. And yet even now, at twenty years old, Yuri can’t always keep his blood from boiling. 

There’s a knock at his door.

“Go away,” he calls. 

“Yuri.” It’s Victor. “Would you like to cash in on that favour now? I can tell mom you’ve caught my cold so you don’t have to come to dinner with us.”

Yuri sighs, and yanks open the door.

“No,” he says, “I can stick it out. Besides, I’m not gonna waste my favour on someone like JJ.”

Victor grins. “There’s my determined little brother.”

Yuri wrinkles his nose. “If you’re going to get sentimental on me I’ll change my mind.” 

“Sentimental? Me?” 

There’s a small crowd gathered at the foot of the stairs by the time they make their way down. The first person Yuri notices is JJ, sporting a business suit even on this casual occasion and a self-satisfied smile. 

“Yuri Plisetsky.” 

JJ does a funny sort of bow, and extends his hand for a shake. Yuri takes it gingerly and lets go as quickly as possible. 

“How have you been?”

“Fine,” Yuri says, and then, because his mother is glaring at him pointedly: “And you?” 

“Quite well, thank you. The company has been flourishing, and as one of their top employees, I’ve been sent back to the Longbourn area to scout out a location for a potential new branch.” He gives them what Yuri assumes is supposed to be a conspiratorial grin. “All very confidential, of course.”

“Of course.” 

“JJ.”

The voice is unfamiliar to Yuri, and he looks on with surprise as a young woman steps into view, offering him her hand with a warm smile. 

“Sara Crispino,” she says, by way of introduction. “JJ’s personal assistant.” She turns to him. “Mr Feltsman says our meal is served.” 

Sara guides JJ into the dining room before he can open his mouth again, which is enough to make Yuri grateful to her. He makes a face at Victor, who shakes his head at him, though he can’t hold back a small smile. 

When Yuri enters the room he’s in for another surprise. 

“Mila?”

She waves at him, laying down the last of the place settings. “Your mother invited me to join you for dinner. Welcome home.”

Yuri glances back at Lilia, and she lifts her chin just barely, her only outward indication of smugness. And Yuri is still angry with her and Yakov for inviting JJ to stay with them, and for not telling him about it, but if Mila’s here then at least they can throw each other snide glances until it’s over. Even Victor seems to be in a tolerable enough mood. 

They sit down together, and they’re not two minutes into their meal when JJ launches into a speech about the latest advancements his company has been making (all thanks to him, no doubt). Yuri narrows his eyes at Mila next to him, and in return she shakes her head just slightly, signalling her agreed disapproval. 

“If you want to know where all the opportunity lies these days…

Yuri’s phone buzzes. 

_The only opportunity I want is to knock his ego down a few pegs._

He waits until his mother is distracted and fires off a reply. _You’d better invite me when you do it._

“…and of course, if I hadn’t swooped in at the last second and run those figures, the company would be out of a lot of money right now. But of course, it was the least a humble man like me could do for such noble people as the executives I work for.”

_I’ll even let you help._

Yuri gives Mila a thumbs-up, and she returns it. 

“You know, I’ve been doing some research into program development recently, and…”

“Ms Baranovskaya,” Sara says, breaking in. “Your home is so lovely. It’s very kind of you to host dinner for us.” 

As Sara monopolizes the conversation with Lilia, JJ sets about his food, all but untouched during his diatribe, and Yuri heaves a relieved sigh. He casts a glance at Mila, but she isn’t paying him any attention. Her eyes are on Sara, across the table, and she hardly seems to notice that she’s put her fork down in her water glass. 

“Someday you’re going to be as bad as Victor,” Yuri tells her later that night, as they sit together out on his front porch. The rest of his family (and their unwanted houseguest) are inside, all sleeping or close enough, but Yuri can’t bring himself to go to bed just yet.

Mila sniffs. “Victor is a tough one to beat. I’m not sure I could even if I tried.”

“Maybe.”

“And what about you? It’s been ages since you’ve had any…attachments, at least that I know of.”

Yuri tilts his head back, shivering a little. It’s too cold to be out this late, but what does that matter?

“It’s difficult when you live in a town where everyone’s either straight or an idiot.”

“Or both.” Mila hesitates a moment. “Perhaps if you didn’t spend so much energy being derisive of everyone…

“You sound like my mother.” Yuri gives her a reproachful look. “You’re not supposed to turn responsible on me.”

“Perish the thought. I only mean…sometimes people aren’t as bad as you expect them to be. On occasion.”

“We must be meeting different people.”

“Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

Yuri rolls his eyes. “Only if you promise never to bring it up again.”

“You have yourself a deal.” She grins suddenly. “Oh, and Yuri?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you get Sara’s number for me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there’s no real counterpart to Sara in the actual book but listen. I ship the heck out of those two.


	4. Chapter 4

Even after the (utterly excruciating) two nights JJ spends at the Feltsman-Baranovskaya household have passed, he doesn’t stop turning up at the most unexpected times, in the most unexpected places. It’s like when Otabek first moved to Longbourn, only worse because Otabek at least has the decency to keep to himself most of the time. JJ can’t seem to stop shoving his face in everyone’s business. 

It doesn’t help that Yakov and Lilia keep inviting him round for dinner, or allowing him to drop by unannounced. It’s all because they’re hoping he’ll offer Yuri an internship—a lucrative, _paid_ internship, as they’re so quick to remind him—which they believe is in his best interest. In another situation it might be, but Yuri would sooner dance with Otabek than accept a position with JJ’s company. And he’d sooner sit through a whole day of Victor and Katsuki’s flirting than do either of those things, which just shows how serious he is.

And then, like some kind of miracle after everything he’s been put through in the past week, a new opportunity arrives in the form of a stranger.

Yuri is on his way back from campus one day after sitting through his final exam before the end of fall term, when he remembers he has to return some of his books to the library before the staff hunt him down with pitchforks to collect the fine. 

As he makes his deposit, he notices a boy only a few years older than him tacking up flyers near the entrance, which is in direct violation of library policy. Yuri is perfectly content to let him get chewed out by an irate librarian when he notices the bolded letters at the top of each poster: _now hiring_.

He slings his now-empty bag over his shoulder and sidles up to the stranger.

“You know,” he says, as conversationally as he is able, “the staff will have your head if you put those there.”

The stranger’s brow wrinkles. “Really?”

“Yeah. They have to go on the community board out front.”

“It was full.” 

“So stick yours over someone else’s.” Yuri shrugs. “Come on, I’ll help.”

He and the boy plaster half of the bulletin with the flyers, and afterwards the stranger thanks him. 

“I’m Mickey,” he says. 

“Yuri Plisetsky. Can I ask what you’re hiring for?”

“My company is in need of a few office assistants starting this summer. I graduated from the business college at this university a few years ago, so I thought I’d see if anyone here was interested.” 

“I’m sure you can find someone.” Yuri offers him a sly smile. “I know a place that does good coffee around here. Wanna go?”

It turns out that Mickey—or Michele, as he gives as his full name, though he says it embarrasses him and to please never mention it—isn’t half bad conversation. And he pays for their coffee, which Yuri definitely appreciates. 

They run into each other again the next day and exchange numbers, which in Yuri’s mind means he basically has the job in the bag already. (He pretends it isn’t because this is a really small town, university campus notwithstanding.) 

The day after that, Yuri invites him for coffee again, but unfortunately, before he can set about trying to win Mickey over, he sees Otabek happening down the lane towards them. They make eye contact when he’s a few metres down the pavement, and at this point he’s too close for them to just ignore each other, so Otabek slows awkwardly and comes to a stop in front of them.

“Yuri.” He nods. 

“Otabek.” Yuri gestures vaguely to his side. “Mickey, this is—

“We’ve met,” Mickey says tersely. Otabek is staring at him with an expression that amidst his stoicism resembles a glower—the closest Yuri has ever seen him come to open hostility. 

“Then I don’t need to introduce you.” Yuri tries to think of something to say that’ll get him and Mickey out of the situation without making it more awkward. He can always count on Otabek to ruin everything.

This time, though, Otabek takes a step back from them, shifting his gaze to Yuri. 

“Phichit and Yuuri are expecting me,” he says, and waits a beat. “It was good to see you.”

That takes Yuri by surprise. Never in the nearly three months they’ve known each other has Otabek alluded to finding his presence remotely enjoyable, even when it’s obviously just a formality. Yuri lifts his chin, determined not to be pacified.

“I’ll see you later,” he says, knowing (sourly) that this is probably true.

“I almost forgot,” says Otabek. “We’re having a party tonight at the manor. Yuuri wanted to invite you and your family.” 

He doesn’t so much as glance at Mickey when he says this. Yuri wonders if he’s really petty enough to invite his whole family while directly snubbing the person standing next to him. He wouldn’t put it past him. 

“Tell Katsuki we’ll be there.”

Otabek nods and sets off, casting one last glance at Yuri over his shoulder as he goes. Yuri turns to Mickey.

“What was that about?”

“It’s a long story,” Mickey says, sighing. “Are you sure you want to hear it?”

Yuri assures him that he does, and they sit together over steaming mugs of coffee outside the town’s only café. Mickey takes his time before beginning. 

“I didn’t mention it before,” he says, “but I have a twin sister. The two of us lived for a time on the same street in London as the Altin family.”

“You knew Otabek when he was younger?”

“Yes. He was much the same as he is now—always so serious, it made all the adults worry.”

“I can imagine.” Yuri conjures up a vision of the same Otabek he knows now only slightly smaller, sitting in the corner of a room at someone’s birthday party, bearing a bored expression or a book. For some reason, it almost makes him smile.

He shakes his head to rid himself of the image, focusing his attention back on Mickey.

“So what happened?”

“My sister may be the same age as me,” says Mickey, “but I have always looked after her the way any caring older brother would. I only wish it had been enough.”

Yuri has a sudden, horrible thought. 

“Otabek and your sister weren’t— _involved_ , were they?”

Mickey nods gravely, and Yuri makes a face as he chokes down a sip of coffee.

“What on earth did she see in him?”

“God only knows. I tried to warn her away from him, but she wouldn’t listen. And in the end, I was proven right—he broke her heart for the sake of his own selfish ego, and I will never forgive him for the pain he put her through.” 

This, Yuri thinks, is the difference between the two of them: Mickey is wounded not on his own behalf, but because of someone he cares about. Otabek, by contrast, only cares about himself.   
( _Don’t_ you _like to claim you only care about yourself?_ Yuri’s inner   
Victor observes, but he dismisses the thought. This is completely different. And besides, Yuri doesn’t only care about himself. He cares about his cats too.)

“Did your sister kick him in the teeth?” Yuri asks, because that’s what Mila would have done.

Mickey almost smiles at that, though it’s an expression Yuri’s never seen him quite be able to manage as of yet. 

“I would have kicked him in the teeth for her,” he says, “but when I went to confront him he was with his friends, and I would have been outnumbered. I wasn’t going to let that stop me, but my sister begged me not to hurt him, so I deferred to her.” 

Yuri would have kicked him in the teeth. 

They talk a while more about things that aren’t Otabek and part ways with a promise to meet again sometime during Yuri’s break from school. When he gets back, Yuri tells Victor everything in the hopes that he’ll finally understand his animosity, but instead:

“I think you’re intentionally misunderstanding the situation,” Victor says. “After all, you haven’t heard Otabek’s side of the story yet, and you only met Mickey—what, three days ago?”

“So?” Yuri says. “I’ve already liked him more in three days than Otabek in almost three months.”

“Aren’t you being a little hard on him?” 

“No way. He deserves every word I’ve ever said about him.” 

“You’re awfully fond of criticising him.”

Yuri casts his brother a scathing look. “Oh, like this is such a new thing.”

“No,” Victor admits, “but every time someone brings him up you grow even more fervent in your condemnation of him. People will think you’re hiding something.”

“You’re the only one who ever listens to me talk about Otabek,” says Yuri. “Well, you and our parents and Mila, but it’s not like they care.” 

“All I’m saying is you might want to tone it down a little.”

“You always say that.” 

“And I’m always right.”

Yuri rolls his eyes at that, because it’s blatantly untrue, but then Lilia whisks him away to assist her with something before he can make a proper retort. 

A half hour later and they are on their way to the party. Yuri rides with Victor and Georgi, while JJ and Sara carpool with his parents. Yuri isn’t sure the invite extends to those two interlopers, but with Sara around JJ will have someone to keep him under control, and as long as Yuri stays out of their way he’ll only suffer through this party as much as he usually does. 

As with last time, the dance will be held on the Netherfield cortile, a wide, open floor surrounded by the balconies of the rest of the building. Stretched high above their heads is a glass ceiling, to keep the heat in, and beyond it, the first stars of the night sky are beginning to come into view. 

It’s a beautiful setting, but it isn’t what captures Yuri’s attention when he steps into the room. 

No, what captures Yuri’s attention is the DJ booth stationed across the floor, currently blaring what he recognizes as “This Charming Man” by the Smiths. _I would go out tonight, but I haven’t got a stitch to wear._ And behind it, looking for all the world like he actually belongs there, is Otabek Altin.

If Yuri were carrying anything, he would have dropped it on Victor’s foot. 

“Didn’t see that coming, did you?” Next to him, Mila smiles. “Hello, Yuri.” 

“So you’ve managed to convince them to invite you back.”

“You make it sound like I’m such a poor guest, but I’m sure if I were to spend a weekend here I wouldn’t be half so belligerent as you.”

They stroll around the perimeter of the party together. Yuri catches JJ talking with Sara out of the corner of his eye. Mila notices too. 

“Do you think they’re involved?” she asks.

“Them?” Yuri shakes his head. “Definitely not. I don’t think anyone could stand to be JJ’s assistant _and_ his girlfriend. Besides, every time he comes over he goes on about his fiancée back in London.” 

“Oh.” And Mila smiles again, but this time it isn’t for Yuri. “That’s good.” 

“You should go talk to her.” 

“And risk loosing JJ on the rest of the party? I’ll pass.” 

Yuri folds his arms. “You’re scared.”

“I am _not_.”

“Prove it.” 

She shakes her head at him. “Don’t think I don’t know what game you’re playing.”

But she stalks over to the pair of them anyway. Yuri watches her converse with JJ for a few moments and then pull Sara aside. She whispers something close to her ear, and Sara laughs. JJ looks over at them curiously, and Yuri turns away. 

Behind the DJ booth, Otabek looks up from his sound equipment and spots Yuri across the room. He lifts his hand in half a wave, and then murmurs something to Phichit next to him. Phichit grins and flashes a thumbs-up, and Otabek hands him his headphones, stepping down to make his way through the crowd. 

Yuri could move—he wants to move, in fact—but he stands as though rooted to the spot. 

Otabek stops in front of him. “You came.”

“I had to.” Yuri’s voice is a little raw, so he tries again. “Victor wouldn’t let me stay home.”

“I see.”

They stand opposite one another, and then Otabek suddenly takes Yuri’s hand. 

“Dance with me.”

Yuri blinks. “I—I’m sorry?”

“Come on,” he says. “You can suffer through one dance, surely.”

Yuri doesn’t have a response for that. He follows numbly as Otabek leads him out onto the cortile. Otabek seems so unlike himself tonight—he’s always been direct, but never this forward, this self-assured. If he were anyone else it might even be charming, but Yuri isn’t fooled. It’s only because he’s been taken so entirely by surprise, Yuri tells himself, that he’s allowing Otabek to carry on with this nonsense. 

Phichit has taken up residence behind the DJ booth in his friend’s absence, and with a wink tossed suspiciously near to their direction, he changes tracks. The next song starts with the thrum of a guitar in 2/4 time, the singer’s voice low and sensuous. Yuri can’t make out the words. 

“If you think this is going to trick me into liking you better,” says Yuri, as Otabek slips an arm around him in a ballroom hold, “you’re sadly mistaken.” 

“Acerbic as ever,” Otabek murmurs, close to his ear. “Don’t worry. I’m not that delusional.” 

He pulls back enough for Yuri to catch a glimpse of his face, still frustratingly neutral but for what could be the barest hint of a smirk at his lips. Yuri sets his jaw. He cannot allow Otabek to play him for a fool. Even if they are dancing, nothing between them has changed, and as with all their other encounters, he is determined to come out of this one on top. 

He adjusts the position of his feet and hands so that now he’s the one leading. Otabek quirks an eyebrow at him, and Yuri returns the expression, refusing to be the first to tear his eyes away. Otabek’s gaze doesn’t falter. 

“Where did you learn to tango?” Yuri asks, in spite of himself.

“With the British Ambassador’s son in our dorm room back in Almaty. And you?” 

Otabek switches their positions again, moving behind Yuri and pressing a hand to his waist. Yuri kicks his foot straight up in a perfect point before he says, “when your mother is a retired professional dancer, certain things are mandatory.” 

He bends his knee as his foot touches down and they sink low, sliding their feet together again as they straighten up. Otabek spins Yuri around so that they are facing one another again. Around them, the crowd is beginning to draw back, and Yuri can hear muted whispers behind the music. 

He pays them no heed. All he cares about is showing Otabek—well, he’s not exactly sure what, but he will not be outdone. Not by _him_. 

Otabek’s hand brushes against Yuri’s lower back. Yuri curls his leg around his thigh. 

“I must admit, Mr Altin, you’re full of surprises.” 

“I could say the same.” 

“A DJ, a dancer…” Their faces draw together again, and Yuri leans in, eyes narrowing. “And quite a heartbreaker, from what I hear.”

Otabek stumbles, and Yuri grins triumphantly. 

“Mickey spoke to me about you.”

“Of course.” Otabek lets out a long breath, though his footwork doesn’t falter. “I should have known he would feed you his story about me.” 

“You can’t blame him for telling me the truth.”

Otabek doesn’t answer that. There is a new kind of tension in the air between them, neither angry nor brought on by the crescendo of string instruments, but stiff and uncomfortable. Otabek’s heart—if Yuri can call it that—no longer seems to be in the dance, though he still goes through the motions. They finish in a low dip, Yuri’s back bent almost double, hair falling to the side of his face, Otabek suspended above him. 

They right themselves, and Otabek turns away. Yuri gazes out at the crowd that has formed around them. He’s pretty sure Yakov has his head buried in his hands, while Lilia is busy shouting “that’s my son! You show him, Yura” at anyone who will listen. Yuri doesn’t even have to look to know Victor is wearing the widest smirk the world has ever seen. That bastard has the complete wrong idea. But Yuri did come out on top, and that’s what matters. 

“Mr Altin!”

Yuri closes his eyes and wills himself not to growl. Of course JJ had to stick around to watch their little display. Yuri thought he was allergic to fun.

“I must say,” JJ begins, “I was most impressed by your performance. From what Mr Plisetsky has told me, you are not very fond of dancing.”

Otabek appears to have as little patience for his blathering as Yuri. He folds his arms. “And you are?”

“Oh, I nearly forgot.” JJ sticks out a hand, which Otabek takes with evident reluctance, though of course JJ doesn’t notice. “Jean-Jacques Leroy. I am a neighbour and friend to the Feltsman-Baranovskaya family, and have ventured back to the cradle of my youth in order that I might—

“JJ.” Mila steps up to him, then, and takes his arm. “I ran into Sara a few minutes ago. She said she was looking for you. Why don’t we go find her?”

“Of course, Miss Babicheva.” 

“Please, call me Mila.” She smiles at him, winking at Yuri over her shoulder. “And along the way, how about you tell me more about that job opening you mentioned earlier?”

_Shameless_ , Yuri thinks, shaking his head, but at least she’s gotten JJ off their backs. When he turns to remark on this to Otabek, he finds that the other boy has once again taken shelter behind the DJ booth. Around him, the party resumes.

He means to sneak off before Victor can come and tease him, but as he makes his way to the exit Phichit steps into view and stops him. He’s wearing a serious look that seems strange on his ordinarily cheerful features. 

“What do you know about Michele?”

Yuri is taken aback by the question. He’s heard all about how Otabek knows Mickey, but Phichit…

“I know enough.” Yuri folds his arms. “I know Otabek wronged him and they still have an animosity with each other.” 

“Otabek wronged him…”

Something on Phichit’s face shifts, and he opens his mouth as though he wants to say something else, or perhaps even sigh, but then he closes it again. Yuri frowns. 

“Why do you ask?”

“It’s nothing important. But Yuri…” Again Phichit struggles with the words. “You should know that he is not all he appears to be. I don’t know what he’s told you, but keep in mind that there are at least two sides to every story, and not everyone will give you the truth.”

Yuri wants to say _I’m not a child_ , but that will only make him sound like he is. Instead he nods. 

“From what I’ve heard,” he says, “Mickey’s is the side I trust.”

“That’s your right.” Phichit pauses. “Just be careful, okay?”

“Sure,” says Yuri, swallowing down another childish retort. “I will be.” 

“May I make one last request?”

“Yura.” 

He spins around as Victor lays a hand on his shoulder. 

“We’re leaving now.”

Yuri digs his fingernails into his palms, and he’s on the verge of yelling _not yet_ , but Victor would hold that over his head for the rest of his life. When he turns to ask Phichit what he wants the boy has vanished. There’s something funny in Victor’s smile—it serves its purpose to the larger world, but Yuri has lived with Victor for twenty years now, and he knows how to spot when something’s off. The curve of his mouth is a little strained, his eyes sombre.

“Has something happened?” Yuri asks. 

“Nothing,” Victor says, in a tone that doesn’t convince but doesn’t invite further comment. 

And then Lilia and Yakov and Georgi are there, and Yuri is being dragged into the backseat of Victor’s car, and the three brothers share a strange, silent trip home.

_A weird atmosphere for a weird night_. Yuri contemplates asking Victor again what’s wrong, but the image of Otabek behind the DJ booth comes back to him, entirely unbidden, and as much as he tries, he can’t shake it.

He closes his eyes, as though that can make it go away, but even as he shoves the memory aside, he feels the ghost of Otabek’s hand at his waist, poised for another tango.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first appearance of DJbek in any of my fanfics! Honestly it will never cease to amaze me or make me cry internal tears of joy that Otabek is a DJ in the actual canon. What a time to be alive. Also, a sneaky little Rent reference, plus the Smiths, because I couldn’t resist.


	5. Chapter 5

The news arrives the very next morning. Phichit and Yuri have departed for London—indefinitely, the message says. There are no more words after that.

Yuri studies Victor at the breakfast table for any sign of distress, or perhaps even an explanation, but he remains remarkably composed. It’s all a façade, of course, but for the moment there’s no need to make him more miserable by pointing it out. Even Yuri knows that much. 

Something happened the night before. Yuri has no doubt in his mind about this, but for once he isn’t sure how to ask about it, not when Victor is in this condition. Yuri almost wishes they could go back to the days when Victor would prattle on about Katsuki for the better part of the day without a care. Now his family walks on eggshells, afraid to mention the name. Even Lilia and Yakov won’t bring it up. 

There are times, a few of them, when Victor’s cover slips. One evening, in an effort to distract him from the crushing silence around the house, Georgi offers to show him how he does his eye makeup, and Victor snaps that a contributor to a fashion magazine doesn’t need tips. Then he claps a hand over his mouth and runs out of the room.

It’s unlike him. Victor’s always been more of the ‘quiet fury’ type, and his irritation is never as blunt as his come-ons. Yuri’s rage is loud enough for the both of them. 

If Katsuki’s disappearance is enough to change even that, then they have a real problem on their hands. 

Another problem presents itself almost as swiftly. When JJ arrives at the house and asks to speak with Yuri privately, he knows it can’t bode well. 

“After much deliberation,” JJ says, with the air of one bestowing a great gift upon a lesser being, “I have elected to extend my company’s goodwill towards you in the form of a job offer.”

Yuri opens his mouth to let him down before this can go any further, but JJ cuts him off. 

“We would have preferred for you to start as soon as possible, but in accordance with your schedule the company executives have graciously allowed that you may postpone your start date until this summer. Now, I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to know that—

“Wait.” Yuri holds up a hand. “JJ. I’m not taking the job.”

He frowns. “What?”

“You never once had the sense to just ask me if I was interested. I’m not.” 

“I thought—

“ _How_? What did I ever do to make you think I wanted to work with you?”

JJ stares fixedly at the ground, his confusion growing into concern. Yuri almost feels bad for him. 

“Your mother told me you needed a job this summer,” JJ says. “I wasn’t sure if I should offer it to you, but she insisted you were interested in a position with the company. I thought I was being benevolent.” 

“You think a lot of things about yourself, but that doesn’t mean they’re true.” Yuri takes a deep breath, reminding himself that there’s no use in being overly antagonistic. “Listen. I’m sorry if my mother gave you the wrong impression—she tends to do that—but I’m not taking that internship.” 

JJ is quiet a moment.

“Okay,” he says, and attempts a smile, though it’s worn away at the edges by his wounded pride. “I hope that when we meet again it may be on better terms.” 

Later, perhaps, he will regret not saying “I hope so too,” but at that moment he doesn’t have it in him. 

After he shoes JJ out of the house, Yuri collapses on his bed, already feeling a headache threatening at his temples. Lilia is going to have a fit when she hears. As if there isn’t already enough tension here these days. 

He groans, rolling over onto his side and curling up into a ball. When did being an adult get so difficult? He can’t recall having much trouble with it up until now, but his mind and stomach both are churning, and in spite of his best efforts he can’t shake the strange, twisted feeling that has seized him. 

On impulse, he jumps up and crosses the hall to Victor’s room, knocking once at the door. After a moment, Victor opens. 

“Yura?” His brow wrinkles. “Are you okay?”

“Tell me what happened the other night.”

Something on his face must look convincing, or more likely just desperate, because Victor gives a soft sigh and motions him inside. He closes the door behind them and faces Yuri, sinking to a slow seat behind his desk. His fingers fidget with the lining of his jacket. 

“I guess I can’t keep you in the dark any longer.” 

“You’re insufferable,” Yuri says, “but this sucks.” 

“Yeah.” Victor fixes his gaze on the window behind him. He speaks quietly, calmly, but several times he almost lets something raw slip in. 

“Up until the night of the party,” says Victor, “neither Yuuri nor I had made a move.”

“Not even when we spent the weekend at Netherfield?” Yuri shakes his head. “I just lost a bet with Mila.”

“If you don’t tell her it can be our secret.”

“Deal. So, you were hitting on him at the party. Then what?” 

“We were dancing together. Things got a little…intense…and we wound up in one of the side rooms, away from the rest of the crowd.”

“Here we go.”

Victor frowns at him. “I thought you wanted to hear this story.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yuri motions for him to continue. “Did you kiss him?”

Victor’s cheeks go pink, which Yuri takes as a yes. He makes a face.

“Then what happened?”

“I don’t know. We were kissing, and then…he ran out. I assumed I’d just gotten carried away and decided to give him his space before apologizing, but now…

“He’s gone.” Yuri reaches out a tentative hand to gingerly pat his shoulder. Victor raises an eyebrow at him and he withdraws it hurriedly. “Do you think he left because of that? It seems like a stupid reason to pack up and move.”

“It may not be the sole cause,” says Victor, “but it has to be related. I messed up, Yura.” 

“It’s Otabek’s fault,” Yuri decides. “Or Phichit’s. One of them must have said something to get between the two of you.”

“That doesn’t seem like something either of them would do.”

“Maybe, but Katsuki wouldn’t just leave without telling you unless something was wrong. The way he talks about you…he’s completely smitten. It’s gross.” 

A comment like that would usually make Victor smile and tell him off, but he doesn’t do either of those things. Instead he sighs. 

“No matter whose fault it is,” he says, “it doesn’t change the fact that something is wrong. I only wish I knew what I could do about it.” 

“Fuck him,” says Yuri. “Fuck all of them, you don’t need them. You were fine before they came along, right? Victor?” 

He’s gotten up to stand by the window, gazing through it like a lovelorn protagonist on a movie poster. It’s pathetic, but something in Yuri’s chest gives a twinge. All thoughts of pressing the subject dissipate. 

“I’m leaving now,” he says. Victor doesn’t answer. 

The next afternoon Lilia finds out that Yuri refused the internship. He knows this because he hears her shout (actually shout) his full name— _Yuri Plisetsky Feltsman-Baranovskaya_ , the middle name that comes from his grandfather and the hyphenated surname—all the way from his room on the second floor. 

“Mother,” he says, calmly, when he sees her. “I can explain.”

“Explain?” Her features remain as composed as ever, but beneath the surface Yuri can see she’s furious. “What could possibly explain you turning down a paid job opportunity?”

“I’ve already given you my position on working for JJ’s company—

“Your _position_.” She snorts. “What would you know about it? You’re a twenty-year-old with no college degree or discernable plan for the future.”

This is the way they always fight, but this time—this time, Yuri thinks, she’s gone to far. Before he can say anything, she continues.

“Do you know how I had to find out? Did you tell me? No, because you were too ashamed. Mr. Babicheva phoned me.”

“But why—

“Your friend Mila has taken the job. She’s leaving for London today.”

Yuri gapes. And Lilia is still outraged, of course, but her expression softens to one resembling pity. 

“Go speak to her,” she says. “We can resume our argument when you return.”

He leaves before she can change her mind. 

Mila’s house is close enough to walk to at a reasonable pace, but he runs anyway. He hammers up the front steps and stops at the entrance, panting. He doesn’t take his finger off the bell until he hears Mila’s voice. 

“I’m coming, Dad, it’s not like we’re going to be la—oh.” She stops short as she catches sight of him. “It’s you.” 

“Mila.”

“Yura.” She steps out onto the porch, dragging her luggage behind her, and closes the door. 

“I assume you know why I’m here.”

“I’m sorry, Yura.”

“You owe me more than an apology.”

“You want an explanation. I’ll give you one.” 

Yuri stares her down, waiting. She takes her time starting, and it is only the fact that this will probably be the last time Yuri sees her in a while that keeps him from being outwardly impatient.

“Frankly, Yuri…” And she pauses. “I need this.” 

“But you _hate_ JJ!”

“Not as much as you do.” Mila sighs. “Look, Yuri. I’ve been searching for a steady job ever since I graduated last spring. This could be an opportunity to start building a real career.”

“Yeah, but…at his company?”

“To start out with, but not forever. Only until I find something better.” 

“I just wish you would have talked about it with me sooner.”

“I’m sorry,” Mila says. She pauses. “I’ll miss you.”

“I guess I’ll miss you too,” Yuri admits. “But only because with you gone there’ll be no one around to commiserate with.” 

She laughs. “You’d better call me whenever anything important happens. I’m counting on you to be my informant.” 

“I won’t let you down.” 

She pulls him in for a hug, and just this once Yuri obliges. When she pulls away her eyes look a little watery, but she turns her face so he can’t see. Yuri feels something well up in his throat and swallows thickly. 

“Make sure to visit,” he says.

“And you,” says Mila. “You’d better come see me in London. We’ll have loads of fun in the city, the two of us.” 

“I’ll get mother to let me come over the winter holidays.” 

“I’ll plan on it.” 

Mila’s father honks, and she picks up her suitcases. “Goodbye, Yuri.”

“Bye, Mila.” 

He watches her leave, and then, with great reluctance, begins his walk home to face his mother. 

She has her arms folded in displeasure when he arrives, expression pinched into an especially severe frown. In some other circumstance, they’d yell at each other until they wore themselves out, but today Yuri already feels tired. 

“Well?” Her gaze is relentless. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“I’m not sorry.”

Her scowl deepens. “What was that?” 

“I know you’re upset that Mila got the job instead of me,” he says.

“I’m upset that you refused it,” she says. “If Mila had the sense to accept, then she deserves it.” 

“I have a job lined up with a friend, but…

“But?”

“Never mind.” Yuri moves to step past her, but she blocks his way. 

“This conversation isn’t finished.” 

“It is for me.”

She lets him go, but they both know it isn’t over. 

The next day for what might be the first time ever Yuri wakes earlier than the rest of his family. He has to get out of the house for a while, so he walks to the café and has two cups of coffee, and then, since he has nothing better to do, he ambles in the direction of the library. 

It’s a lot quieter now that school is out of session for the winter holidays. At this hour of the morning hardly anyone comes in, so he wanders the shelves in solitude, picking up a book here and there and paging through it, only to set it back down again. 

Shortly before lunchtime he sees Mickey come in and makes his way over. 

“Any luck finding a person for that job?” 

“Unfortunately not. I’m very surprised, but there just haven’t been any viable candidates.” 

“You could always give it to me.”

“You?” Mickey’s brow wrinkles. “I don’t know. Do you have any experience working in an office?”

“No,” Yuri admits, “but it’s not like my resume is completely empty.” 

“You can send it to me, if you want,” Mickey offers. “I can’t make you any promises, though. My boss will probably want someone more qualified.” 

“Let’s wait and see what they say.”

“Alright. I can discuss it with them personally when I return.”

“Return? You mean you’re leaving?”

Mickey nods. “I was going to text you, but then you showed up here. I’ve been called away on urgent company business. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” 

“Oh. Well…” Yuri casts around for something appropriate to say. “I’ll see you later, I guess.”

“Yes. Later.” Mickey begins to head for the exit, but turns back as he reaches the doorway.

“I’ll let you know about that job.”

“Please do.”

After that, Yuri stays by the shelves a little longer, though he finds he isn’t really paying attention to anything he’s reading. Since there’s no point being at the library if he can’t concentrate, he goes back to the café for a bite to eat. It’s late afternoon now, and the sun is already beginning to set over the hills in the distance. He takes in the view as he sips his tea. Splendid, and extraordinarily dull. Like something on the front of a greeting card. 

He’ll have to find his way back to the house eventually, but he doesn’t feel like going just yet. He takes his time with his meal, as though it’s something out of a five-star restaurant, although he’s about as focused on the taste as he was on the books back at the library. His thoughts are a jumble, scattering and reforming again every time he thinks he’s puzzled out something coherent. 

He sits outside the shop for hours, until his stomach starts to rumble again and he orders more food. It’s past dark now, and the café will be closing soon. He should really start heading home, but his feet don’t seem to want to move.

Just as he’s worked up the willpower to stand, he sees a familiar figure coming down the pavement, like the last time he was here with Mickey. Otabek Altin.

It’s enough to propel Yuri over to him, maybe because he’s worked up an appetite for an argument now, but not the one waiting for him back at the house. 

“Yuri.” Otabek gives him a nod, stopping across from him. 

“Will you tell me why Phichit and Katsuki left, or are you going to stay silent too?”

Otabek’s eyes flicker to the ground and back up at Yuri.

“That’s between them,” he says. “I’m not involved.” 

“Sure you’re not.”

“It’s a private matter. I won’t discuss the details.” He shifts, his expression changing. “About Mickey…

“That’s a private matter too,” Yuri says.

“I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to hear this for me, and I haven’t given you much cause to trust me. But Yuri, I…you can’t trust him, either.” 

Yuri glares at him. “What makes you think you have any right to give me that sort of advice?”

“I know I have no right whatsoever,” says Otabek, refusing to look away, “but I’m telling you anyway. It’s your choice whether or not you want to listen to me.” 

“Even if you already know what my choice is going to be?”

“I have to try, right?”

Yuri is the first to break eye contact, jamming his hands in his pockets and directing his scowl at the ground.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “Mickey skipped town this morning. Pity you had to waste your efforts on me after he’s already left.”

“I’m leaving too.”

It takes Yuri a moment to register what he’s saying, and a beat longer to speak. 

“Leaving for where?” 

“London. Now that Yuuri and Phichit are gone, I imagine they’ll lease the house to someone else.” 

“What will you do?” Yuri asks.

“Move back in with my old roommate,” says Otabek, “and resume my position as head of the London branch of my family’s company.” 

“I never knew you were.” Yuri hesitates a moment. He isn’t sure why he’s bothering to continue this conversation, but he supposes if he’s never going to see Otabek again five more minutes can’t make that much difference. “Why did you leave?” 

Otabek looks away. “I needed a change.”

“Guess you didn’t need it that badly.”

“Yuri,” says Otabek, turning back to him, and stops. “If you should ever find yourself in London, feel free to stop by.” 

“I don’t even know where you live,” Yuri starts to say, but Otabek is already walking away. He shakes his head. _Good riddance_. 

He doesn’t feel quite as elated as he thought he would in this situation. Perhaps the news hasn’t quite hit him yet, or he’s still too busy being angry with Phichit and Katsuki. And Mila, too, a little, although he’s mostly forgiven her. 

He’s upset at Otabek, which is strange. Of all the times for anger to rear its head, the day his rival finally moves away shouldn’t be one of them. He should be celebrating, and yet…

Yuri shakes his head. It doesn’t matter. Without their Netherfield neighbours he’ll have three less nuisances in his life, even if it means the parties and excitement will stop too. _But_ , Yuri thinks, _how much have I ever really cared about parties? Or socializing with the neighbours?_ Even if excitement is hard to come by in as small a town as this. But he’ll visit Mila in London soon, and after he graduates maybe he can move there permanently. He isn’t going to end up like Victor and Georgi, still living at home well into their twenties. They might be perfectly content, but Yuri has loftier aspirations. 

He starts for home, taking his time as he walks. If he gets back late enough, maybe his parents will have already gone to bed and he won’t have to deal with Lilia giving him another lecture on the stupidity of turning down a job offer. _A_ stupid job, he thinks, kicking at the pavement. 

If he’s in a bad mood now, it’s Otabek’s fault. Lately it’s always Otabek’s fault, but now he’ll be gone, and that’s a good thing. Yuri is glad he’s leaving. 

And he’s glad, even if his head is spinning. There is nothing he can be but happy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention last time that I’d be busy visiting family this past weekend, which is why the update is a couple days late. Thank you all very very much for sticking with me so far <3

For the last week of the winter holidays, after Christmas and the New Year have passed, Yuri and Victor make their annual pilgrimage to the house of Nikolai Plisetsky. 

This year, Lilia and Yakov are both too busy with work to come, and Georgi’s off gallivanting around with some girl, so it’s just the two of them travelling to visit their grandfather. Yuri doesn’t mind. Nikolai Plisetsky is probably the singular most rational member of the family, aside from himself, and right now, rationality is something he needs. 

Yuri is not, in general, very prone to hugging. He wards off or endures Victor’s attempts as much as he can, and most other people know better than to try. But he makes an exception for his grandfather. Nikolai Plisetsky crushes the brothers in a brief, tight embrace, ruffling Yuri’s hair before he announces that he’s made pirozhki for dinner in honour of their arrival. 

As they eat, he interrogates them each on their lives since the last time they saw him. 

“Are you still working for that magazine, Vitya?” 

Victor nods. “I talked with the editor a few weeks ago, and she says she wants to promote me to senior correspondent come springtime.”

“And what about your life outside of work? Have you found a nice boy to settle down with yet?” 

“Grandpa,” Yuri says quickly, “last term I was top in my class for my acoustics seminar.” 

He regales his grandfather with an extended summary of the past year’s academic exploits, and Victor shoots him a grateful look. _You owe me_ , Yuri mouths, and Victor shakes his head. _You never change, do you?_

The next day Yuri goes to visit Mila at her new apartment. She’s flatmates with Sara Crispino, which caused Yuri to make a number of suggestive facial expressions when she told him over Skype, but she still insists it’s “not like that” and “you need to get your head out of the gutter, Yura.” 

Whatever. He sees through her, and he can absolutely tell when she’s in denial. 

Both girls welcome him when he arrives, and Sara sequesters herself in the kitchen to make tea, giving Yuri and Mila a chance to catch up. They’ve barely started when Mila’s phone rings, and she glares at the screen. 

“Hang on a moment,” she tells Yuri, making a face. “I have to take this, it’s for work.” 

“JJ?”

She nods, and then turns her back on him to answer, speaking into the receiver for a few minutes in an annoyed undertone. From the sound of it, her boss keeps interrupting her. 

“Alright. I’ll see to it this evening. Yes, of course. Bye.” 

She slides the phone back in her pocket. “Sorry. You were saying?”

Yuri grits his teeth. “How can you stand him?” 

“Who?” 

“JJ. He’s so full of himself.” 

“What, and you’re not?” She smiles at the look of outrage on his face. “He’s not so bad once you’re used to him. And his secretary is pretty cute.” 

“I knew it. You’re only here because you want to get in her pants.”

“I’m here for the money,” Mila says, turning bright red, “but Sara is a plus.”

“So let me get this straight,” Yuri says. “You’re living together, and you haven’t even told her you like her?”

“It’s only until I can find a place of my own.” She bites her lip. “Since I’m living with her, I’m not going to say anything until after I’ve moved out.” 

Just then the woman in question comes back into the room and Mila clams up. 

“Your tea,” Sara says, placing a cup and saucer in front of each of them. 

Mila takes a hasty sip, wincing as it scalds her throat, and sets the cup down with a hard clink. 

“Where’s Victor?” she asks. “I thought he came to London with you.” 

“He has to finish an article for the magazine,” Yuri says. “But really I think he wants to wander around on the off chance he’ll run into Katsuki.”

Mila shakes her head. “This is a city of eight million people. What does he think he’ll find?”

Yuri shrugs. “That’s Victor.” 

Sara smiles softly into her teacup, and Mila shoots her a questioning glance.

“It’s nothing,” she says. “The way you two talk…it reminds me of someone I was once close with.” 

“Who was—

“The scones! I completely forgot.” She dashes back into the kitchen before either of them can press her for more details. 

“Mila.” Yuri leans in, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. “You have to do something.”

“No way,” she hisses back. 

“But you—

Mila kicks his shins under the table as Sara re-enters. 

“So Yuri,” she says, and now there’s a dangerous, wicked gleam in her eyes that he knows all too well. “How have your least favourite neighbours been in my absence?”

“Ex-neighbours,” Yuri says. “They packed up and moved around the time you left. I guess you were too busy preparing for your own transfer to hear about it.” 

“That must be like a blessing for you. No more Otabek.” 

“It’s been a relief,” Yuri says, and then frowns. “Although he did say something funny before he left.”

“Funny how?”

“He turned around and told me that if I’m ever in London I should come and see him. Good thing he doesn’t know I’m here now.”

“I wonder…”

“What?”

“Never mind,” Mila says, and hurries into a grin. “There’s some office gossip I’ve been absolutely _dying_ to tell you. It’s about JJ…”

Yuri listens as best he can, but he’s unable to keep his mind from wandering. He’s still distracted later that night, and Victor teases him for scarfing down more of his grandfather’s pirozhki—his favourite meal—like he can hardly taste it. 

“Don’t worry, Yuratchka,” his grandfather says. “I will make some to send home with you, so you and the rest of the family can enjoy it later.”

Yuri ducks his head, embarrassed, and murmurs a thank-you. 

The day after that, he and Victor go sightseeing. Even if they’ve visited the city more than a few times by now, it’s fun to play the tourist and run around looking lost and taking too many pictures. Victor poses for a shot with a baseball cap he found lying on the ground, holding a souvenir map upside-down.

“Do I look like an American?”

“That thing is going to give you head lice,” Yuri says. Victor rips it off and chucks it away, looking affronted. 

Yuri’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he tugs it out. He frowns at the name that pops up on the screen. _That Asshole Altin._ He spends a moment deliberating over whether or not he should answer, but Victor is watching him carefully, so he sighs and hits the button.

“What do you want?”

“Hello, Yuri. I see you’re in London.”

Yuri curses himself for posting that picture of him and Victor at Westminster Abbey on Instagram, even if it is the most likes he’s gotten so far this year. 

“So what if I am?”

“I believe I told you you’re welcome to stop by. The offer still stands.”

“I’m afraid I’m busy.”

“Yuri Plisetsky?”

The voice on the line is unfamiliar: American-accented and jarring in its contrast to Otabek’s usual dour intonation. The stranger has a brighter way of speaking that makes Yuri think, briefly, of Phichit. He hazards a guess that this is the roommate.

“Leo de la Iglesia,” the roommate says. “I’d offer you my hand to shake, but apparently that isn’t possible over the phone.” 

“Right.”

“Otabek and I thought we’d invite you and your brother to our favourite restaurant this evening.” Yuri can hear Leo lean into the receiver conspiratorially. “And I bet between the three of us we can convince him to pay.”

“I…” Yuri notices Victor giving him a curious look. “…I’ll have to clear it with my grandfather.”

“Sure. Give us a call when you figure it out, okay?” And he hangs up with a click.

Yuri stares at the phone in his hand for a moment, until Victor brings him back to reality with a jab to his ribcage.

“What was that about?”

Yuri scowls. “Otabek Altin.”

Victor’s eyebrows raise. “Oh yes? And what did he want?”

“To invite us to dinner this evening. Actually, his roommate invited us on his behalf.”

“His roommate?” Victor shakes his head. “We’ll go, of course.”

“Are you crazy? I never want to see him again.”

“But this roommate of his could turn out to be interesting. And Otabek’s company isn’t so bad, once you’re used to it.” 

“I refuse to believe that,” says Yuri. “Anyone who can stand to live with him can’t be much better than he is.”

Victor doesn’t pay him any attention, already dialling. 

Yuri crosses his arms. “Where did you even get his number?”

“What about you?” Victor counters, putting the phone to his ear. “I thought you hated him.” 

Before he can answer Victor turns away, murmuring words Yuri can’t hear into the receiver. He laughs once before hanging up and turns back to his brother with a grin.

“We’re on for dinner tonight. You’d better dress nice, Yura, it’s an upscale place.”

“Great. Grandpa is going to be thrilled when he hears about this.” 

Victor waves a hand. “He’ll be fine. Come on, I want to see Piccadilly before we head back.”

At this point Yuri won’t get anywhere trying to talk him out of it. He remembers how he felt several weeks ago, knowing that it would probably be the last time he’d ever have to see Otabek. And now here he is. 

He has his small moment of rebellion when he refuses to dress up. Victor purses his lips when he sees him, but makes no comment, and the two depart. 

The restaurant really is a nice place, and some of the other patrons cast Yuri dirty looks as he walks through the door, but these only fuel his sense of spite. They spot Otabek and Leo at a table near the back, and Leo waves them over.

He’s a little shorter than Yuri, with long brown hair that he keeps tied back. He says he’s the same age as Otabek, although he looks younger, maybe because he doesn’t spend all his time sourly staring off into space. He takes to Victor immediately, complimenting his fashion sense, and the two launch into a conversation on some movie that Yuri hasn’t seen yet. This leaves him and Otabek to stare awkwardly across the table at one another, waiting for their food to arrive and distract them. 

“I’m still curious,” Otabek says, startling Yuri out of his thoughts. Yuri raises his eyebrows at him.

“About what?”

“Your technique at the party was very impressive. That doesn’t just come from having a ballerina for a mother.”

“Maybe not,” Yuri says. “I’ve been with the local studio for twelve years now.” 

“So that’s where you learned to tango. You’re a dancer.”

“Not exclusively. I’m in my last year of design school. Architecture.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Yuri’s brow wrinkles. “Why do you work for your parents’ company?”

“Duty,” says Otabek, and folds his arms. “Your turn.” 

“I like to dance,” Yuri says. “I want to design the greatest performance space in the world. A theatre people will travel from all over the world to see, or hope for the chance just to stand on its stage.”

“Impressive,” Otabek says, which must be ironic. That hint of what might be a grin, too, at the corner of his lips, is sarcastic. “I hope that one day you can make it a reality.”

Yuri scowls at him. “You don’t have to make fun of me.”

“I would never dare make fun of you.”

Leo chooses that moment to engage him in conversation, leaving Yuri to ponder over the strange remark. He shakes his head, dismissing it as another insincere jibe. 

Dinner lasts another hour, and after that Leo suggests they go to a club together, but this is where Yuri puts his foot down. 

“But Yura…” Victor whines.

“ _No._ Grandpa’s expecting us back.”

“I’m sure he won’t object if we stay out a little longer.” 

“Absolutely not.”

But as much as he protests, he can’t change Victor’s mind. He turns to Otabek, his last resort, but he only shrugs. Infuriating. 

And that’s how an hour later he finds himself sitting at the bar of some establishment he didn’t bother to catch the name of, nursing a grimace and a glass of water. Earlier, Victor disappeared almost instantly into the crowd with an unknown guy, and Leo went off in search of his boyfriend, who had promised to meet up with them. Otabek is god-knows-where. Yuri sighs, banging his head against the table and only wincing a little. 

Someone taps on his shoulder. Thinking it’s Victor, he spins around, ready to snap at him, but the culprit is even worse than his brother. 

“Seriously, don’t you know not to sneak up on people like that?” 

“Don’t _you_ know that head injuries make you lose brain cells? I imagine you’ll need those at architecture school.” 

For some reason Yuri blushes. “Shut up.” 

The corner of Otabek’s mouth tugs into a half-grin, and Yuri realizes with a jolt that it’s the first time he’s ever seen him smile. It makes his face look softer, almost _kind_ , but it only lasts a moment. Yuri shakes his head to clear the image. It’ll take more than a dumb smile to win his forgiveness.

“Dance with me.”

“Haven’t we been through this already?” 

“Would you believe me if I said I wanted a rematch?”

Yuri lets a small grin escape in spite of himself. “Only if it means you admit I won last time.” 

Otabek just takes his arm and pulls him out into the crowd. 

“This DJ is terrible,” he says.

Yuri punches his shoulder. “Oh, like you could do better.”

“Maybe I could.”

“I thought you wanted to dance.”

In response, Otabek pulls him in by the waist, not so close they’re touching, but near enough that Yuri can feel the heat radiating off his body. (And he should probably be disgusted with himself for doing this, but isn’t it after all just another competition?) Here they do not tango, they do not even touch, but Otabek’s eyes never leave him. Yuri thrusts his chin out and pays him no attention, hips swaying in time with the music, fingers running through his hair. 

“I must confess,” Otabek says, breath hot against his ear, and Yuri can almost feel his lips brush against the skin there. He waits, but Otabek stops, and pulls away. Yuri folds his arms. 

“Confess what?”

“I—

Before he can finish, Victor jerks Yuri around by the shoulder, tugging him away. 

“I didn’t know my baby brother could dance like that,” he trills. “I’ve never been so scandalized.”

Yuri makes a face as he pries Victor’s hand off him. “You’re drunk.” 

“Only a little,” Victor says. “You must be too, if you’re dancing with Otabek.”

“Not drunk,” says Yuri, “just experiencing a lapse in judgement.” He takes Victor’s arm. “Come on. We’re going home.

This time Victor doesn’t protest. Thankfully, their grandfather is already asleep when they arrive, and they both fall right into bed so they can do the same. And Yuri tries, but every time he closes his eyes he sees Otabek’s face, and he has to roll over and hit his head against the pillow in annoyance.

After two days he thinks he might finally have succeeded in blocking the entire evening from his thoughts, and then Victor drops the news. 

“Yura.”

His face and tone are both far too innocent, which means he is definitely up to something. Yuri whips out his signature glare.

“What is it now?”

Victor’s smile twitches, but doesn’t vanish. 

“We’ll have some visitors coming over shortly.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’ve invited my arch nemesis here without telling me?” 

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” 

Yuri lets out what can only be described as a yowl of rage and frustration. Victor throws his hands up in defence. 

“Our grandfather suggested it,” he says. “And besides, you didn’t seem to hate him so much when you were flirting each other’s pants off two nights ago.”

“That was different,” Yuri says. “I let my guard down. And I was not _flirting_. You’re just not used to seeing me be polite.”

“I can’t argue with that. You know, you should try letting your guard down again.” Victor has the audacity to ruffle his hair. “Maybe you’ll surprise yourself.”

Yuri is determined not to. He sits in sullen silence while Victor and Leo chat over the tea his grandfather prepared. 

“It’s strange,” Victor remarks, about an hour in. “I thought Otabek would be joining us today.”

“He got held up at work,” Leo says, “but I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually.”

“If he can be bothered,” Yuri mutters, and Leo shoots him a curious look.

“Why do you say that?”

“I doubt he’ll deign to spare us the time of day. It goes against his nature.”

“Otabek? You must be mistaken.” And Leo spreads his arms expansively, settling into the story. “Our friend Mr Altin is a hero.”

Yuri snorts. “And why’s that?”

“For bravely rescuing a friend of ours,” Leo says, “from a terrible fate.”

“Ad what fate would that be?” Victor leans forward. “Go on, you’ve caught my interest now.”

Leo grins. “With pleasure. The answer is simple—Otabek spared our friend a great deal of heartbreak. That’s one of the worst fates of all.” 

“Heartbreak…”

“Totally. This friend was mooning over some guy, and really thought they had a chance together, but get this: the guy was two-timing him. He didn’t care one bit.”

A sick feeling wells up in Yuri’s stomach. He balls his fist under the table.

“And Otabek,” he manages to spit out, “he’s involved in this how?” 

“He was the bringer of the bad news. But he presented it in a very rational, way, I think. Without his account of the matter our poor friend could have gone on prolonging his agony for months.” 

Victor sinks back into the couch. His face has gone ashen, and his fingers shake on the handle of the teacup. Still, he keeps his expression neutral. 

“What became of this friend?” he asks. 

“He moved back to London,” Leo says, completely oblivious to the shift in atmosphere. “Apparently it was a hell of an ordeal to get his residency transferred to one of the hospitals here. It’s been a month and I still don’t think all the paperwork has gone through yet. It’s definitely going to set him back.”

Victor’s grip on his cup tightens. “His residency.”

“He’s a doctor. Or, almost a doctor. I’m not actually quite sure how that works in this country.”

“Leo,” Yuri says, standing. “I just remembered that Victor and I promised to take our grandfather to the clinic this afternoon.”

“Of course.” Leo stands too, pushing in his chair and placing his cup delicately back on its saucer. “I’ve taken far too much of your time. Please kick me out.”

Yuri does, as politely as he is able. In another mood, he’d be impressed with himself—manners don’t come easily to him even when he doesn’t want to throw things. But Victor, sitting speechless on the couch, has been rendered incapable of performing his usual role as the civilized one, and Yuri is not about to cause a row in his grandfather’s house. 

As soon as Leo has been shoed out, Yuri returns to the drawing room to find Victor still motionless, stuck in the same position as when he left. Yuri walks over to him. 

“I’m going to make Otabek sorry he interfered.”

It takes a moment for Victor to answer. 

“Won’t that put me further in your debt?”

In another circumstance, that would be teasing, but here it rings hollow and monotone. Yuri shakes his head.

“Just this once,” he says, “I’ll let that pass.”

He starts to go, but Victor’s hand shoots out and latches itself around his wrist. 

“Please,” he whispers. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“You won’t be the one getting any.”

“Yuri—

He rips his arm out of Victor’s grasp and storms out. The front bell rings, and Yuri curses. In his anger he forgot that Otabek wouldn’t know the day’s plans were cancelled.

Well, so be it. Yuri was looking for a fight with Otabek. Now he’s got one.

He answers the door before Victor or his grandfather has the chance, and glares at Otabek coolly.

“We need to talk.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “May I come in?”

“I have a better idea.”

Nikolai Plisetsky’s house is small, even for three people, and they have no chance of privacy indoors. But there’s a shed out back, just big enough for a worktable and a few racks of gardening supplies, so that’s where they go. As soon as they’re alone together Otabek opens his mouth to speak, but Yuri rounds on him. 

“I want to know exactly what kind of grudge you have against my family.” 

Otabek blinks, and his brow furrows. “Grudge?”

“First you insult me, and now you drive a wedge between your friend and my brother. What could have hurt you so badly that you feel like you have to take it out on everyone else? Or maybe you were just born a bitter, heartless person.” 

Surprisingly, instead of leaping to his own defence, Otabek sighs. “I suppose you would have found out eventually.” 

“You’re damn right I would have,” Yuri growls. “I’m beginning to think you’re morally against happiness.” 

“That’s not it.” 

“Really? Because Victor and Katsuki were getting along fine until you had to ruin it.” 

“Were they?” Now it’s Otabek’s turn for frustration. “Not from what I saw at the party that night.” 

Yuri’s frown falters, but he recovers himself quickly.

“What do you mean?” he demands. 

“Victor was with another man.”

“Bullshit. He hasn’t been able to talk about anyone but Katsuki for months.” 

“That may be,” says Otabek, “but that doesn’t change the fact that Victor was getting very friendly with someone else. Yuuri deserved to know.” 

“So that’s why you made them both miserable.” Yuri shakes his head, and lets out a long breath. “I don’t believe you. All I have is your word, and that counts for less than nothing.”

“Believe what you want. But Yuri…it would never be my intention to cause you harm.”

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

“Because I…” 

He trails off, though his eyes linger on Yuri’s face. Yuri thinks he sees a faint tinge in Otabek’s cheeks, or maybe he’s only imagining it. Otabek starts again. 

“You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire you.” 

“I’m really not in the mood for jokes, Altin. Especially not from you.”

“I’m not joking.” Otabek takes a step closer. “Every day I find myself growing more attracted to you.”

Yuri is stunned into silence, heart racing faster than his brain can keep up with. He stumbles back a few paces, until he knocks against one of the gardening supply racks.

“I can’t hear this from you.”

“Do you think I wanted it to be like this? I know you despise me.”

“Then why did you tell me?” As Yuri finds his voice again his breath comes in short, ragged bursts. “Why couldn’t you keep it to yourself?”

“I had hoped…” Otabek shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket, turning away. “Never mind. Obviously I was wrong.”

“Of course you were. Do you think after all that I’m just going to forget about what you’ve done? About my family?” Yuri realizes he’s shouting, but he doesn’t care. “I could never be with someone as arrogant as you.” 

He waits for Otabek’s face to shatter, but instead he only bows his head, closing his eyes and giving a brief, sad little nod.

“I understand,” he says, voice quiet as he looks back up at Yuri. “I won’t trouble you again.” 

He spins on his heel and steps for the door. 

“Wait.”

He turns, and Yuri flushes, unsure of what propelled him to speak. 

“You should know,” Otabek tells him, before he can say anything else, “I never told Yuuri to move away. I thought he would have a discussion with Victor and they would work it out between the two of them. I cannot express how sorry I am for the pain my mistake has caused your family.” 

Yuri bites his lip. “Sorry doesn’t make it better.” 

Otabek’s gaze flutters to the floor. “I know. Don’t worry. You won’t have to see me again.”

With this, he sweeps through the doorway at last. Yuri sinks to his knees, something hard—fury, it must be—stinging at the corners of his eyes, stopping up his throat. He digs his fingernails into his palms so hard he’s sure the marks will still be there tomorrow, but it doesn’t help. Leaping up, he grabs a pair of gardening shears off the shelf and hurls them at the opposite wall. They sink into the wood with a satisfying _thunk_. 

“That _bastard_ ,” he screams. “Who does he think he is?”

The air doesn’t answer. After a few minutes, he manages to calm himself down enough to pry the shears out of the wall and toss them onto the table. For an interminable stretch of time he stands frozen at the centre of the shed, and then, hands still shaking, he heads back to the house.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning Yuri wakes to a pounding on the front door. Whoever it is doesn’t even have the decency to ring the bell, and besides that it’s much too early, which is a recipe for an instant sour mood. He waits a few moments to see if his grandfather will answer it, but he must still be sleeping, so with a sigh Yuri drags himself up and makes his way to the entrance. 

When he yanks the door open, he finds Otabek standing in front of it. He snaps to attention as soon as he sees Yuri. 

“Before you say anything,” he tells him, pre-empting Yuri’s _what the hell are_ you doing here, “take this.” 

He thrusts something into Yuri’s hands and races back down the stairs. He’s gone before Yuri can properly scream at him. Fuming, he looks down to see that Otabek has given him an envelope. It doesn’t bear an address, only his name, written in a steady enough hand that Yuri assumes Otabek must have put a significant amount of thought into this. 

“Yuri?” Victor pokes his head outside. “Who was that?”

“No one.” Suddenly Yuri crams the envelope into his back pocket, stumbling down the front steps two at a time. “I’m going for a walk.”

“But we’re leaving today!”

“I’ll be here by then,” Yuri calls back. In a quieter voice, so Victor can’t hear, he adds, “I just need some space to think.” 

He isn’t familiar enough with this city to stray very far, so he ducks into a neighbourhood café to sit. Comforted by the anonymity offered by the surrounding hubbub, he takes out the envelope and opens it carefully. 

All it contains is a letter, handwritten on several sheets of paper. Some areas are crossed out and re-written, in several different colours of ink. Scowling down at the page, he begins. 

_Dear Yuri:_

_Please do not be angry with me for writing this. Rest assured: I do not expect you to forgive me. I only want you to know my perspective on the events that transpired, and ask that you read until the very end. After that, do as you choose._

_The first thing I must address, as I have been wanting to for some time, is Mickey. I still don’t know exactly what he told you, but some of it, at least, is true. I did date his sister, Sara Crispino. I noticed that she was at Netherfield the night of the party, and I was so surprised to see her; it’s been years since we last spoke._

_Is it a coincidence that she and her brother are in Longbourn at the same time? I doubt it. Mickey has always had a protective nature, which came in handy knocking bullies around when he and his sister were children, but we are all adults now. You must understand that Sara and I parted on amicable terms. If we had not, she would not have attended a celebration at my house. Our relationship lasted less than a year, after which we mutually decided that we were not interested in each other romantically and broke things off._

_Her brother didn’t see it that way. On the day she told him—casually—what had happened, he showed up at my family’s house in London. He shouted at my parents and would not leave our doorstep until I came outside. I was afraid he would hit me—not for my sake, you must understand, but for his, because I’m a lot stronger than he is and I didn’t want to cause more harm._

_Thankfully, it never came to that, though he did yell a great deal. He seemed to be under the impression that I’d broken his sister’s heart, in spite of the fact that neither of us had shed a single tear over the incident. He wouldn’t stop, and it was only when Sara herself showed up that he quieted down._

_She stood up for me, which was very noble of her, and then the two of them had a fight. I won’t go into detail about it, because it’s their own personal matter, but it was not a pretty sight to witness. By the end of it, neither of them were speaking to each other. To my knowledge, they haven’t spoken since, though it seems Mickey still likes to keep tabs on his sister’s whereabouts. I believe he followed her to Longbourn, and now that she has returned to London, he will probably do likewise._

_I think Mickey has blamed me for that night ever since. Perhaps he is even right to._

_Now that I’ve told you that story, there is another thing I must address. I’m sure you know what I mean._

_Yuri…I don’t know what I can say. About Victor…I am truly sorry. I know you will not believe it, and I know no apology can make up for everything that has happened since, but I really thought I was acting in both his and Yuuri’s best interest._

_That night, I wanted to get away from the crowd, and found myself in a corridor outside one of the spare rooms. I heard Victor’s voice coming from inside, so I peered through the open doorway curiously. He was reclining on the couch with a stranger’s head in his lap, stroking his hair thoughtfully. The stranger made some remark and Victor laughed, mentioning something about how nice it was to see him again, after so long. Then he bent down to kiss him on the forehead._

Here Yuri stops reading, because suddenly everything makes perfect sense. _Christophe._

“Damn,” he says aloud. Otabek is an idiot, but everyone jumps to the same conclusion when they first see Victor with his best friend, because their physical intimacy is so reminiscent of past or present lovers that Yuri would rather not think about it. Which means as much as he wants to, Yuri can’t fault Otabek for his inferences. 

“But you didn’t need to go and rat to Katsuki.”

Someone at the next table over gives him a strange look, and Yuri glares back. 

Victor is the only member of the family to go to university away from home, and when he lived in one of the residence halls on campus, Chris was his roommate. They lived together for three years, and have been inseparable ever since. Whenever Chris comes to visit, the days pass in a flurry of innuendo and overblown sexuality, to the extent that Yuri is half sure the town thinks he’s Victor’s strange foreign boyfriend. Yuri hadn’t known he was at the party, but he isn’t surprised. Chris always likes to be wherever things are happening

He returns his attention to the page in front of him. 

_I wasn’t sure what to do with the information once I had it, so I did the only thing I could: I told Yuuri what I’d seen. He grew very quiet, and then he thanked me. I didn’t hear from him again until the next morning, when Phichit informed me that the two of them would be returning to London later that day. He said he didn’t know when they’d be back, and apologised to me for the inconvenience._

_Months ago, when I had been looking to leave London, he and Yuuri approached me with a proposal. Phichit was an old schoolmate of mine, but at the time I had only met Dr Katsuki once before. They were looking for someone to share a house they found out of town—the price was out of their reach with two, but manageable for three professionals with the good fortune to come from privileged backgrounds—only everyone they’d asked so far had turned them down. I had already told my parents I would no longer be managing my branch of the company from the London office, so I agreed._

_After that last night, Phichit told me I was welcome to stay in their absence, but it’s a strange feeling, living in a house of that size alone. He and Yuuri moved back to the city to think things over, and I did the same._

_Here is the conclusion I’ve come to: I was in the wrong. Although I could not have predicted the outcome of my actions, all they have caused is trouble for people I care about, and that is the opposite of what I wanted._

_My feelings for you remain unchanged since yesterday, regardless of what passed between us. But I will not bother you with them any longer. Now that I have written this letter, and you have read it (I hope), you are free to terminate our acquaintance. Do as you like. All I wish is for you to be happy._

_I hope, of course, that there is some part of you—however small—that can still stand to look me in the eye. I hope, too, that we may dance together again, though I know this is a great deal more foolish. Until that day comes (or doesn’t), I remain:_

_Yours,_

_Otabek. ___

__After a few seconds of silence, Yuri slowly lowers the letter. His eyes and his throat both are burning, and he swallows hard. He takes a deep, steady breath, and folds the papers back into the envelope with a care that even he knows is unlike him._ _

__Even after that, it’s a few moments before he can move properly again, or form any kind of coherent thought._ _

__Like it or not, this letter changes things._ _

__Otabek is still appallingly arrogant, of course. _I was afraid he would hit me, not for my sake but for his, because I’m stronger_. Yuri snorts. Bragging about himself in his own apology._ _

__And yet…_ _

__He shakes his head. He cannot allow himself to be swayed by this. Even if Otabek was in the right about Mickey all along—which Yuri will admit now, grudgingly, because Mila likes Sara, and Sara has been nicer to him than her brother so far. (And as far as he knows, she hasn’t told him near as many lies.)_ _

__But that doesn’t change anything. It can’t. It _won’t_. He refuses to let it. And if he refuses, then it won’t happen. He can go on hating Otabek in peace. _ _

__The truth of the matter, Yuri thinks sourly, as he walks back to his grandfather’s house to finish packing, is that he isn’t quite sure who he should be upset with. Of course he’s still angry with Otabek, but it’s more complicated than that now. He’s angry with Phichit and Katsuki for moving away without a word of explanation, or giving Victor a chance to offer his own. He’s angry with Victor too, a little, for not having more sense. Even Yuri could see that Katsuki was the type to let his insecurities bother him. Victor should have realized what his little display of affection with Chris would imply._ _

__Victor’s always been kind of oblivious to that sort of thing, though. What really frustrates Yuri the most is that this whole situation was just so _avoidable_. There’s no one mistake or transgression to blame, and none of it would have happened if they’d all been better at communicating instead of acting without thought. _ _

__He wonders, a little guiltily, if his own animosity with Otabek might have something to do with their neighbours’ hesitance to reach out to them, but dismisses the thought._ _

__That evening he tells Victor everything, because his brother deserves to know, and loath as he is to admit it, Yuri needs his advice. Victor is quiet a while after Yuri recounts the story, mulling it all over, and then he lets out a quiet sigh._ _

__“All that, over a simple misunderstanding.”_ _

__Yuri isn’t sure if he’s referring to the thing with Mickey or their own troubles of the past month, but he nods._ _

__“What should I do?”_ _

__“I haven’t the faintest idea.” He pauses. “It’s a lot to take in. Has your view of Otabek shifted at all since reading the letter?”_ _

__“Has yours? You were there when Leo said he was the one who broke the news to Katsuki.”_ _

__“That’s true. In that moment I was very angry, but afterwards I sat and thought about it a while, and I couldn’t find it in myself to condemn Otabek completely. Looking back on it now, I suppose I’m not entirely blameless either.”_ _

__“Did you know Chris was going to be there?”_ _

__“No. He was only in town for one night, on a layover before his next flight. He wanted to surprise me.”_ _

__Now it’s Yuri’s turn to sigh. “My head’s been going around in circles about the whole thing ever since this morning. I don’t know what to believe, or how I should feel.”_ _

__“There’s no pressure to feel any particular way,” says Victor. “Just take your time.”_ _

__“I can’t believe Mickey didn’t tell me any of this,” Yuri says. He pauses. “Actually, I can believe it. I’m just angry with myself for getting so caught up in his version of the events that I wouldn’t listen to anyone else’s.”_ _

__Victor smiles a little. “It’s very like you. You’ve always been stubborn.”_ _

__“Could you please not insult me while I’m in the middle of having a crisis?”_ _

__“Sorry.” He sobers up, though the shadow of the grin is still there. “Yuri, I can’t tell you what to do in this situation. Maybe it’s best if you do nothing at all, and just wait for things to sort themselves out on their own.”_ _

__“But Katsuki—_ _

__“Doesn’t want to see me, or he would have gotten in touch by now. The damage is done, and I have to live with that.”_ _

__Yuri bites his lip, wanting to argue further but sensing he’ll get nowhere if he does._ _

__“Do you think I should tell Mila about the thing with Mickey?” he asks instead. “She’s been interested in Sara for a while now, and I don’t want it to cause problems for them.”_ _

__“Hmmm.” Victor frowns. “You’re right about that, although it’s a very personal situation. Maybe we should leave it until Sara feels comfortable telling Mila herself.”_ _

__Yuri nods. “Okay.”_ _

__“I’m glad you came to me with this, Yura.”_ _

__Yuri lets out a long breath, and then nods again._ _

__“Me too,” he admits. He hesitates a beat more, and then adds: “thanks.”_ _

__He darts out of the room before Victor can tease him for it._ _

__A few days later, Georgi announces at dinner that he’ll be moving in with his new girlfriend in about a week’s time. Their parents are ecstatic, though privately Yuri thinks it’s just because they’ll finally have one of their kids out of the house and out of their hair for a while. The following days are spent in a flurry of packing and goodbyes._ _

__On the appointed morning, they all pile into the car to drop Georgi off at the train station. The rest of Yuri’s family bids their farewells, and then it’s his turn._ _

__“Yuri.”_ _

__“Georgi.”_ _

__They nod at each other, and Georgi picks up his bag, slinging it over one shoulder._ _

__“Feel free to video call me if you ever need a make-up walk through,” he says. “Or relationship advice.”_ _

__“No way,” says Yuri. “You know the rule: I don’t listen to you or Victor on anything related to romance.”_ _

__“You should try being in love, Yuri. It’s wonderful.”_ _

__He almost says, _it wasn’t so wonderful for Victor_ , but he bites his tongue. Georgi gives him a brief, stiff embrace, and then his brother if off. Yuri has the strange urge to run to Victor and make their usual petty jokes, something about how Georgi’ll be home again in three weeks after his latest fling breaks up with him. But these days, Victor is never in the mood for that sort of thing, and Mila is in London, so he can’t talk to her about it. _ _

__The one thing Otabek Altin was always good for, Yuri thinks grumpily, was a snarky attitude. Now he doesn’t even have that much._ _

__The first half of his spring semester passes in a whirlwind. Yuri turns twenty-one a week before spring break, and to celebrate he makes another trip to London. This time, Victor is busy with work and doesn’t come with him._ _

__And maybe it’s because his brother isn’t around to make trouble, but something feels strange this time around. He passes the club they danced at with Leo and Otabek while he’s out with his grandfather one day and stops stock-still in the middle of the pavement._ _

__“Yuratchka?”_ _

__Yuri tears his eyes away from the neon sign, not yet lit up in the daylight, to see his grandfather’s worried frown. He plasters on a smile that isn’t entirely convincing._ _

__“Sorry. Let’s keep going.”_ _

__“You’ve been absent this week, Yuratchka. Every time I glance over your mind is a thousand miles away.”_ _

__“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” Yuri says. His grandfather doesn’t look satisfied, but thankfully he doesn’t press the subject._ _

__As they board the bus together, Yuri notes that this isn’t the route that will take them back to the house, and turns to his grandfather, who only gives him a cryptic smile._ _

__“I have something to show you.”_ _

__They disembark several stops later in one of the business districts, tall office buildings all around. The one Yuri’s grandfather leads him to is by no means the biggest of the bunch, but he notices immediately that it stands out architecturally from the bunch._ _

__“Where…” Yuri looks around at the estate, taking in the impeccably manicured grounds, the skyscraper towering at the centre with glass windows gleaming in the sunlight. “Where are we?”_ _

__“Pemberly Tech,” his grandfather informs him. “Your friend, Mr Otabek Altin. This is the London headquarters of his family’s company.”_ _

__“He’s not my—hey, how did you know that?”_ _

__“It isn’t difficult information to find.” Nikolai Plisetsky’s eyes twinkle with a hint of mischief he hasn’t lost even in his old age. “Since you and Victor saw so much of him over spring break, I decided to do a little digging.”_ _

__“That’s great and all,” says Yuri, spinning around to head back in the direction of the bus stop, “but Otabek and I aren’t really in a position that I can just randomly show up at his office.”_ _

__His grandfather puts an arm out to stop him. “Don’t you want to look around inside? I would have thought a design student like you would be interested.”_ _

__“Not particularly.”_ _

__“Well, I want to look. You can do what you want.”_ _

__He starts up the path for the front entrance without sparing so much as a glance behind him. Yuri waits a beat, then gives an internal groan and follows him._ _

__The lobby of Pemberly Tech is light and airy, with high windows that look out on the surrounding grass. They check in at the receptionist’s desk to receive their visitor passes, and she informs them that they’re free to wander around the first floor, but that they’ll need to be escorted by a staff member to see anything beyond that._ _

__“Is your manager at work today?” Nikolai Plisetsky asks._ _

__The receptionist shakes her head. “I don’t believe so. He’s had to take some personal days in preparation for his coming departure.”_ _

___Departure?_ Before Yuri can ask about it, his grandfather leads him away._ _

__He hates to admit it, but this place _is_ rather nicely designed. It has a strong sense of balance and architectural cohesion, unique among its companions without seeming out of context. If he and Otabek were on speaking terms, he’d be tempted to ask who designed it. _ _

__He wonders what it would be like to work here. Not that a tech company has any relation to his future goals, but it’d be a lot better than working for Mickey the liar or stupid JJ. He could have his own office. An architect’s office, on the top floor, looking out at the city skyline. Every few hours, he’d make the journey to Otabek’s workspace—on the floor below his, of course—to pester him about whatever caught his fancy. Otabek would be as infuriating as ever, but maybe that could serve as a sort of motivation._ _

__And just as he’s thinking this, there Otabek appears, hurrying down the hall towards them. He glances up from the file in his hands, though at first he doesn’t seem to register who it is across from him. Then he looks up a second time and stops cold._ _

__“Yuri.”_ _

__“O—Otabek.”_ _

__They stare at each other, stricken. Otabek shifts his weight from foot to foot, nervous but trying not to appear that way. At last he offers an awkward hand to Yuri’s grandfather._ _

__“I don’t believe we’ve met before,” he says. “I presume the two of you are related?”_ _

__His grandfather nods. “Nikolai Plisetsky. I’m his mother’s father.”_ _

__“It’s an honour to meet you.”_ _

__Yuri supposes, in hindsight, that Otabek has often been cordial with strangers, in a stiff, distant sort of way, but this is the first time he’s seen him so polite._ _

__Before he can say anything else, an employee with a clipboard walks up to him and begins talking rapidly about an internal affairs issue within one of the departments. Otabek and the employee converse for a few moments in hushed tones, and then Otabek sends them on their way as they thank him profusely, actually beaming. Yuri definitely hasn’t seen anyone _beam_ at Otabek, not ever, unless you count Phichit, but Phichit smiles at everyone._ _

__“Sorry,” Otabek says, turning back to them with the hint of a remorseful grin. This whole experience is so surreal Yuri is half convinced he’s dreaming, though the heat rising to his cheeks says otherwise._ _

__“If you’d like I can give you a tour of the facilities,” Otabek is saying, “unless there’s some other reason you’re here.”_ _

__“We just wanted to take a look,” Nikolai Plisetsky says. “It’s a very impressive company.”_ _

__“Yuri?”_ _

__He’s jolted out of his thoughts, and he looks back at Otabek, face burning._ _

__“Uh…yeah.”_ _

__“Then a tour it is.”_ _

__One of Otabek’s assistants joins them, and she walks ahead with Yuri’s grandfather, while the boss lags behind. He and Yuri walk next to each other, neither of them speaking, though every so often one of them will cast a quick, furtive look at the other, eyes skirting away again when they’re caught. At last, Yuri says in an undertone, “if I’d known you were going to be here, I wouldn’t have come.”_ _

__It’s the wrong thing, apparently, because Otabek’s expression darkens._ _

__“You’ve made your feelings in that respect perfectly clear.”_ _

__He hurries forward to catch up to the pair ahead, but Yuri chases after him._ _

__“Wait! Otabek, I…I only meant that I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”_ _

__Otabek stops walking, and then quickly catches himself and starts back up again, though at a slower pace. He doesn’t look at Yuri._ _

__“That’s a first for you.”_ _

__“I know. I…” _I’m sorry?_ Otabek turns to him, and the words die in Yuri’s throat._ _

__“We can leave if you want,” he says in a rush. Otabek only shakes his head._ _

__“Now you’re not making any sense,” he says gruffly, though he doesn’t seem angry._ _

__They pass plenty of other workers in the halls as they pass. They all greet Otabek with respectful waves or smiles, and he nods to each of them in return, occasionally calling out to them by name. He’s almost a different person here—still reserved and aloof, but somehow warmer than Yuri ever would have given him credit for._ _

__Their tour leads them past bustling workrooms and computer labs, some full and some empty, but none with an idle person in sight._ _

__“Everyone is so industrious,” Yuri hears his grandfather remark to Otabek’s assistant. “That seems most unusual.”_ _

__“Oh, it’s not so surprising,” she says, casting a quick glance behind her at her boss. “Most of us are quite happy to be here. It’s a prestigious company, and our employers treat us quite well.”_ _

__“The receptionist said you were out today,” Yuri tells Otabek._ _

__“I only just arrived a short while ago,” he says. “There were some important documents I needed to collect from my office.”_ _

__“Before your departure. Where are you going?”_ _

__An uneasy look passes across Otabek’s face. “Actually, Yuri, I’m heading back to Longbourn.”_ _

__Yuri stops walking, spinning to face him. “What?”_ _

__At the other end of the hall, Yuri’s grandfather swivels his head around to shoot him a concerned look, but he ignores it._ _

__“I thought you wanted to stay in London to think things over,” he says._ _

__“I did,” Otabek says, “and I have. But a few days ago Phichit called to inform me that Yuuri’s residency won’t transfer, so he has to return to his job with the hospital in town. I’ll still be managing this branch of the company, but from afar.”_ _

__“I see.”_ _

__Otabek frowns suddenly. “Is that…okay with you? I know we parted on…less than stellar terms, and I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”_ _

__“You’re not an inconvenience,” Yuri says quietly, realizing for the first time that it’s true. It’s an alarming thought to have. He spends a few moments heavily debating his next words. “Will you promise me something?”_ _

__“Anything.”_ _

__The tone in Otabek’s voice is far too earnest, and there’s a wrench in Yuri’s stomach. He ignores it._ _

__“Tell me you’ll get Katsuki to listen to Victor,” he says. “Even if it’s just for one visit, so he can explain himself, because what happened…it’s not at all what you think. Do whatever you have to. Please.”_ _

__In the heat of the moment, he can’t even be disgusted with himself for asking so nicely. Otabek studies him a moment, eyes serious, until he seems to come to some conclusion._ _

__“Okay,” he says. “I promise.”_ _

__They give each other a long, grave look, and Otabek nods, just once._ _

__“Thank you.”_ _

__And before he can embarrass himself any further, Yuri hurries down the hall to join his grandfather. He doesn’t see Otabek smile at him as he goes, only briefly, but unmistakeable nonetheless._ _


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone. My most sincere apologies for skipping a week—I really should have warned in advance, but I totally thought I could do it (spoiler alert: I totally couldn’t). In case you’re wondering what I’ve been up to in my absence, it involved the various joys of final exams week, moving, starting a new full-time job, and sick loved ones. (And watching a lot of kdrama, um.) I want to thank you all again so much for your patience and support, because it’s really what keeps me going

Yuri doesn’t really intend (or want) to take the news to Victor, and yet one vague phone call about “something important to tell you when I get home tomorrow” and a train ride later, and he’s sitting at his brother’s desk, arms folded. 

“Well?”

“Phichit and Katsuki are coming back.”

Victor sucks in a breath, but, to his credit, he doesn’t flinch.

“When?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Soon.”

“How did you find out?”

“Otabek told me. He’s coming too.”

“Otabek?” Even in the midst of such a serious conversation, the corner of Victor’s lip twitches. “I thought you weren’t speaking to him.”

“I wasn’t,” Yuri says, “but…well, you know about the letter. Grandpa took me to see his office in London and…it wasn’t what I expected. _He_ wasn’t what I expected.” 

“Does this mean you’ll stop proclaiming he’s your enemy at every opportunity?”

“Maybe.” Yuri shrugs. “Doesn’t make us friends, though.” 

“All in good time.”

“I’d prefer that time to be never.”

“Whatever you say.”

And Yuri hates the look on his face, that I-know-something-you-don’t expression shadowed by a hint of amused pity. He’s seen it enough times to know that it doesn’t bode well. 

This newfound not-friendship with Otabek won’t bode well either, if he isn’t careful. He thinks about the tour at Pemberly Tech, only the day before. Even twenty-four hours later, he can’t get it out of his head. Maybe it’s only all this weirdness with Otabek messing with his brain, but something inside him has felt off ever since, since before then, even. Maybe it began with the letter, or maybe it began much longer ago than that, with the arrival of the new neighbours at Netherfield. 

Yuri shakes his head. It’s pointless to think about it now. 

He wanders out of Victor’s room, out of the house entirely, unsure of where he’s headed but in determined pursuit of a distraction. His feet carry him past the library, where he can still see Mickey’s poster tacked up on the bulletin, even after all these months, around the corner to the dance studio. It’s closed for the weekend, but he still has the key on his ring, so he lets himself in and swipes a pair of flats from behind the desk.

It’s been a long time since he did this. Design school has been relentless in keeping him busy, particularly this year, and he’s been so caught up in his studies, he’s scarcely had the chance to do the thing that got him interested in architecture in the first place. He remembers being just seven years old, on a trip to Moscow so his parents could reminisce, watching a performance of _The Firebird_ by the Bolshoi Ballet. The building dwarfed him, with its tall columns and grand fountain, and he regarded it with the same awed esteem as he did the dancers. 

Victor was fourteen, at the time, and had already given up on ballet in favour of fashion. After the show, Yuri told his mother that he wanted to keep dancing, and even now it’s one of the only times he’s seen her display her pride, rather than keep it hidden. 

“Of all my children,” she said to him once, “I’m glad you’ve decided to follow in my footsteps. You have persistence.”

Now, Yuri wonders if she would have preferred for him to go all the way with dance, try and make a career out of it, like her. He decides against it. What she wants, he thinks, is for him to make money. 

He does ballet for a little while, just simple stuff, barre exercises and snippets of choreography he remembers from a time long past. He thinks about dancing with Otabek—how many times has it been now? Only twice, he thinks, not more. As much as he tries to resist the urge, his feet want to tango. 

Otabek must still be on his mind as he leaves, because when Yuri pulls out his phone to check the time his hand hovers for a split second over Otabek’s name on his contacts list. He catches himself just in time, and shoves the device back into his pocket with a snort.

Later that week, Otabek calls with the news of his return. 

“What do you want to do now?” he asks. 

“I’ve been thinking about that favour I asked,” Yuri says. 

“Are you calling it in?”

“Not right this minute. Host a dinner with Phichit and Katsuki this weekend. A housewarming celebration, or something.”

“We already did one of those the first time.”

“Then find another excuse. You have to invite Victor and I. Maybe some friends, too, so it doesn’t look too suspicious.”

“It’ll look suspicious if we invite too many friends other than you,” says Otabek. “For something small like a dinner party, it’s best to only include people you know well.”

“Then invite _my_ friends,” Yuri says. “Mila will be in town, and Sara too.” He has a thought. “That wouldn’t be too awkward for you, would it?”

“I’ll be fine,” Otabek assures him. “Will JJ be with them?”

“Yes. But you don’t have to invite him.”

“It’ll be weird if we don’t.”

“I don’t care if it’s weird. I’ve already been forced to sit through more dinners with him than I can handle.” 

“Yuri.”

He sighs. “Fine. But you’d better be willing to put up with my sarcastic commentary the entire time.”

He can hear the grin in Otabek’s voice. “I can always count on you for that.”

Yuri isn’t sure whether that’s a compliment, but for once he decides not to argue.

“Then it’s settled. I’ll expect an invitation by tomorrow.”

“You’ll get one sooner, if I can manage it.”

And with that, Otabek hangs up.

That afternoon he delivers the summons himself. He hands Yuri the envelope, and for a moment Yuri thinks of that other letter, the one Otabek shoved at him with only a _take this_ before fleeing. He feels a momentary surge of shame, standing there on the stoop, and something else too, something that must bleed into his features, because Otabek shoots him a concerned glance.

“Is everything alright?”

“Peachy.” Yuri snatches the envelope. “I should go show this to Victor.”

“Do you think he’ll suspect that we planned this together?”

“He has no reason to. And you’d better not tell him, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

An awkward silence descends between them. Yuri is itching to go back inside and slam the door, but he has to find some way to manufacture an end to the conversation first. Fortunately, Otabek beats him to it. 

“I have an appointment soon,” he says, “so I’ll take my leave. I’ll see you at the dinner this weekend, Yuri.”

Yuri raises his hand in a halfhearted wave. “See you.”

“That was the most civil I’ve ever seen you act with him,” Victor remarks from behind him, and Yuri nearly jumps out of his skin. He curses as Victor grins.

“Don’t sneak up on people like that, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“What’s this?” Victor plucks the invitation out of his fingers before Yuri can stop him, letting the envelope flutter to the ground as he opens it. His smile fades as his eyes scan the page.

“Well?” Yuri demands. 

“A dinner.” Victor keeps his expression closed, but Yuri can see a trace of agitation working its way into his brow. “After so many months without hearing a word from them.”

“You’ll go, won’t you?”

Victor gives him a look of surprise. “Normally I’m the one asking you that.”

“I just mean…this could be an opportunity for you. To explain yourself.”

“And overstep Yuuri’s boundaries in the process.” Victor starts to sigh, and then catches himself. He plasters on a very unconvincing grin. “It’s all in the past now.”

He heads back inside before Yuri can interrogate him any further. But he must come to some kind of decision on his own, because the following evening, they make the journey to Netherfield together. 

The manor still looks exactly the same as it did in December. It’s only barely April, less than half a year since the move, so this really shouldn’t come as a surprise to Yuri. Even so, in some corner of his heart, he pictured a building changed by the turmoil of its occupants. Victor takes a deep breath as they mount the front steps. 

“This is the part where you tell me I don’t have to do this if I don’t want to.”

“As if,” Yuri scoffs. “If you’re not going to go in of your own volition I’ll drag you over the threshold myself.”

“How encouraging.” 

Victor rings the bell. After a few moments, Phichit opens the door to greet them. He’s all smiles and vibrant cheer as he ushers them inside, as though he hadn’t been giving them the silent treatment up to this point. 

“The others have already arrived,” he tells them, as he leads them through the house to the dining room. Victor pauses.

“Others?”

“Otabek thought it would be a good idea to invite a few more. I’m quite surprised—he usually hates this sort of thing.” 

Victor cuts Yuri a shrewd look at that, which he pretends he doesn’t see.

In contrast to his friend, Katsuki is stiff and hesitant when he greets them, eyes flickering back to his plate almost instantly. In addition to the two groups of neighbours, Mila, Sara, and, to Yuri’s chagrin, JJ, have taken their places around the table. It’s a small party of people with marginal acquaintance or unpleasant histories, and conversation is slow at first, though the food saves the atmosphere from too much awkwardness. 

Yuri is seated next to Otabek—of course—but strangely this time he doesn’t mind it so much. Every so often Yuri will glance at him out of the corner of his eye, and Otabek will respond with an arched eyebrow or a tiny wry grin. Yuri doesn’t know what to make of it, the first time he sees it, so he turns away, cheeks flaming. 

If he and Otabek are a little hesitant around each other, it’s nothing compared to the atmosphere between Victor and Katsuki. They too sit beside one another, though not a single word has passed between them all evening. Katsuki even goes so far as to make a few halfhearted replies to JJ’s speeches, which can only be because he wants to avoid getting lured into conversation with Victor. Mila talks enough for three people, and she and Phichit are soon chatting amiably. 

Sara joins in with them occasionally, or else takes over the heroic task of distracting JJ, although he does seem rather less grandiose than usual. Perhaps the influence of her and Mila combined is changing him. When Sara isn’t talking to Mila she’s making eyes at her, and once Otabek catches her in the act and she flushes, but he only nods his head, offering her a rare smile, and she smiles at him in return. 

Everyone—or almost everyone—seems to be enjoying themselves now, which is all well and good, but it doesn’t solve the problem. Yuri clears his throat, standing, and the room falls silent, all focus now drawn to him. 

“I have something to say to you,” he says, to the table at large, though he looks directly at Katsuki. “You especially.”

He swallows nervously. “Yuri? What’s this about?”

“I think you know.”

“Yuri,” Phichit interrupts, and he stands too. “Why don’t you help me bring in the dessert?”

“No,” says Yuri, “I’m not finished. This is for you too, you know.”

Phichit sinks back to a slow, resigned seat. 

“Months ago you left this place for London,” Yuri says, and now it’s to the residents of the house, and no one else, “but more than that, you left my brother with a broken heart, without offering or receiving an explanation.”

Victor is a cross between touched and mortified. “Yuri…

“Do you know how ridiculous Victor gets with a broken heart? It’s only slightly more disgusting than when he’s actually in love. And I have to put up with it, every time.”

“What are you getting at?” Katsuki asks quietly. 

Phichit leans across the table. “If you want us to tell you why we went—

“I do,” says Yuri, “but not quite yet. First, I want you to understand something. I want you to know that what Otabek saw was misinterpreted.”

“Really?” Phichit is the picture of amused scepticism. “And how many interpretations does that little scene leave room for?” 

“It’s true,” Otabek says. “Yuri has discussed it with me, and I’ve admitted my mistake.” 

“And you trust him?”

Otabek glances over to him, gaze steady. “I do.”

Yuri feels the heat rising to his face, so he presses onward. 

“What Otabek didn’t know,” he says, “and what you neglected to find out, is that the man he saw with Victor, Christophe Giacometti—he’s Victor’s _best friend_. And that is _all_. There never has been, and there never will be, any kind of attachment between them.”

“I’m sorry,” Victor says suddenly, quietly, from his seat opposite Yuri. He turns to face Katsuki. “I truly, truly am. I didn’t think about how my actions would look to observers who are unfamiliar with the way Chris and I usually behave around one another. But Yuuri…I need to ask. Why did you leave? You could have just _talked_ to me.” 

“I wanted to.” With some trouble, Katsuki tears his eyes up from his plate to meet Victor’s gaze. “Really, I did. But you have to understand how afraid I was.”

“Of me?”

“Of _me_. Of—of what I felt. Might one day feel, for you.” 

He’s shaking, but he doesn’t look away. 

“It might be difficult to imagine, for you,” he says. “How could I move across the country just to hide from my own emotions? It isn’t the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done, only the most recent item on the list. And once I was gone, I couldn’t call. I couldn’t face you, after all that.” He bites his lip. “Can you forgive me?”

Victor gives him a smile so soft Yuri feels like he should avert his eyes. “I’d like to ask you the same question.”

“I forgive you.”

“I forgive you, too.” 

They look so much like they’re going to kiss, right there at the table, that Yuri has to put his foot down. 

“If you’re quite finished—

“Wait.”

Now it’s Mila’s turn to stand. Victor and Katsuki break apart to stare at her, but she only has eyes for Sara. 

“Since you’ve spoken your feelings, Victor, there’s something I too must confess.”

“Um, Mila? I know we basically grew up together, but in case it isn’t clear, I’m—

“I know you’re gay, Victor, I am too.” She doesn’t even glance over at him. “This is about Sara.”

“Me?” Her eyes widen. “Mila…”

“Sara.” Mila grabs her hands. “I’ve liked you since the first day I saw you. I was too scared to tell you before, but now I’m not. We’ve lived together for months now, and I was so sure that would come to an end if I said anything, but I owe you the truth, and I’m grateful for the friendship we’ve had, whether or not it continues.” She takes a deep breath. “And before you ask ‘why now?’…it’s more than just feeling inspired by what Victor and Yuuri said. The other day I found an apartment. I can move in anytime—unless you’d like me to stay.”

“Mila,” Sara says again, in a hush. She seems to struggle over her words. “I don’t know what to say.” 

“Don’t say anything. It’ll spare me a little of the embarrassment.” 

“No!” Sara stands quickly. “It’s not that, it’s…

And then she leans in and kisses her, right there in front of all of them. Yuri makes a face, while Phichit wolf-whistles and pretty much everyone else’s eyebrows shoot through the roof. After a moment, Sara pulls away, grinning. 

“There. I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes. Well.” 

Mila’s cheeks are bright red. She sits, and Sara joins her, turning to Otabek.

“What do you think of that?”

“I think the two of you will be very happy together,” he says. “Much happier than we ever could have been.”

Mila frowns. “We?”

“We dated once,” Sara says. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ll bet.”

Sara turns to JJ. “I hope this won’t interfere with any workplace policies.” 

“Fraternization is discouraged…” JJ starts, and Mila glares daggers at him. “…but I think that can be overlooked, just this once.”

“Good.” 

With the more major dramas of the evening taken care of, the last of the tension around the table relaxes, and so do the guests. Victor links hands with Katsuki, and the two of them smile shyly at each other, oblivious to the world. Yuri rolls his eyes, and Otabek looks over at him. 

“Shouldn’t you be happy to see them together?” he says. “After you went to all the effort of getting them to reconcile.”

“Maybe just a little,” Yuri admits. “But tell anyone and you’re a dead man, Altin.”

His lips quirk into a tiny grin. “Noted.” 

He opens his mouth to say something else, but just then they hear the bell for the front door. Katsuki and Phichit glance at one another.

“Should I—

“Leave it.” Phichit waves a hand. “They’ll go away in a minute or two.”

Only they don’t. Yuri feels his phone buzzing in his pocket and pulls it out just as it stops. His stomach sinks as he glances at the screen. Five missed calls from his parents.

Victor seems to have made the same discovery. 

“I’ll go with Yuuri to answer them,” he says, and gets up to leave before anyone has time to react. Yuri watches him go. 

His brother and Katsuki return a few moments later with Lilia and Yakov in tow. Yuri scans their faces. His father appears noticeably more harried than usual, and for Lilia to be showing any sign of concern at all is worrisome. 

“It’s Georgi,” she says. 

The hair on the back of Yuri’s neck stands on end. “What do you mean?”

“We haven’t heard from him in two days,” says Lilia. “We’ve been calling, but—

“He’s gone.” Yakov stares around the table, while the dinner guests can only look on, stricken. “Our son is missing.”


	9. Chapter 9

Victor is the first to break the silence. 

“Yuri, get your coat.”

“Right.” 

He stands, hardly registering the looks of concern exchanged around the table. Next to him, Otabek’s hand latches around his wrist. 

“Yura.”

Yuri shakes him off, ignoring the twinge in his stomach at the use of that diminutive, the look of fear in his eyes. 

The rest of the evening is a blur. Later, he thinks he remembers Victor gripping Katsuki’s arms tightly as his now-boyfriend whispered something to him in a shaky voice—a hollow comfort, or perhaps an apology. After that the two brothers are quickly whisked away back home. 

None of them catch any sleep that night, waiting in vain for any scrap of information to come their way. The next morning, Yuri skips class, and Victor uses up the last of his sick days for the quarter at work. They’re on the phone with the police right through lunch, to no avail—of-freaking-course—and they’re all so preoccupied that none of them hears the doorbell ring the first time. The second time, Yuri goes to tell off whoever dared come here during a crisis like this, and finds Otabek standing on the stoop. Yuri glares at him.

“What are you doing here?”

“I have to tell you something.”

“Out with it, then. I don’t have all day.”

“I know.” Otabek pauses. “At Pemberley Tech, we have several of our own private investigators. I’ve sent them out to search for your brother. They jumped on the case this morning.”

Yuri doesn’t quite know what to say to that. What _can_ he say in this situation? It’s not exactly one he’s been prepared for. Otabek continues before he can speak.

“If you think this will create more trouble for your family, I can pull them off it again. Whatever you think is best I’ll follow.”

At last Yuri unsticks his throat.

“No,” he says. “No, I think the more people looking, the better.”

“Alright.”

“Otabek?”

“Yes?”

“You didn’t need to come here. You could have just called.”

“I did. Several times. You didn’t answer.” Before Yuri can retort Otabek cuts him off. “I do not blame you for any of that. But I wanted you to know.”

Yuri nods. “Okay.” And then, in a small voice, but not so small as it might once have been: “thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I mean it, Yuri. Anything you need, you just have to ask.”

Yuri frowns at him suddenly. “Why are you being so nice?”

Otabek gives his own frown at this, though his seems to be more of the confused variety. “What do you mean?” 

“You’re acting way too polite. It’s not out of pity, is it? Because I hate that crap.”

“Am I…not usually polite?”

“I’ll tell you one thing you’re not,” says Yuri. “Self-aware.”

Although, now that he really thinks about it, he can’t recall very many times that Otabek has been downright rude. With the exception of his comment the night of the first housewarming party, of course. But after that…he exhibited awkward social skills, sure, but how much of that was deliberately ill-intentioned?

If Yuri’s being honest with himself, it’s none. Not once, in all those months, did Otabek act in a way that was willfully harmful, even if some of his choices did end up causing trouble.

In fact…to hear the rest of the world tell it, Otabek might actually be a halfway decent person. Yuri turns his head away before Otabek can see the blush that has crept across his face. 

“The point is,” he says, “it’s…it’s _thoughtful_ of you to do this. So yeah.” 

Otabek gives him a strange, scrutinizing look, which for some reason only makes Yuri flush deeper. At long last he tears his eyes away, glancing back down to the ground.

“I should let you get back to your family,” he says. “I’ll call you if anything turns up. The investigators have been instructed to bring Georgi to you as quickly as possible, should they pick him up. Also—

He stops.

“What?”

“Never mind. I’ll see you later, Yuri. I hope…I hope everything turns out well for your family.” 

He keeps the information to himself, when he gets back inside. He isn’t sure how his parents, proud as they are, would feel about Otabek helping, and explaining why he’s offering any kind of assistance in the first place is a conversation he doesn’t really have the strength for. 

All day there’s no news, and when dinnertime comes none of them are particularly hungry, but they feel obliged to eat. Just as they’re sitting down at the table, the phone rings. Yakov reaches for the receiver. 

“Put it on speaker,” Lilia hisses at him, and he nods.

“Hello?”

“Are you Mr Feltsman?” The voice is young and heavily-accented. The person at the other end of the line pauses, as if to gather her resolve. “I have been trying to reach your family for several days. My name is Anya. I am Georgi’s former girlfriend.” 

She tells them everything—or at least, everything she knows. 

She and Georgi dated from the start of the year to the night he disappeared. Not a very long time, but, she explains, it made sense for them to move in together. As a graduate student on an exchange program from Moscow, she found herself in a new, unfamiliar country; with no connections and a language even now she’s still learning. At the time, Georgi offered to move in with her not only because they were dating, but to help her adjust to life in England. 

“But soon we could not get along so well,” she says, “and I ended our relationship. That night, he was not himself. He ran outside and I thought he would come back, but he did not, and I worried. I tried to call the police, but in that area they are not friendly to foreigners. Then I called you. I hoped—I hoped he would be at home.”

“We have no idea where he is,” Yakov says. “It’s been days since any of us heard from him either.”

He puts Lilia on, and she and Anya converse in Russian for a while. A brief glimpse of Lilia’s usual self flits across her face when Anya mentions she’s a ballet dancer, and then her worried frown returns. After a few more minutes, she hangs up.

“Poor girl,” she says. “She doesn’t know what to do any better than us.” 

Just then, the phone rings again. As it does, Yuri feels his own phone vibrate in his pocket. He sees Otabek’s name on the screen and steps out of the kitchen.

“They found him.”

“Where?”

“About fifty miles out from here. It seems to be an area near the one where he was staying. They’re bringing him to the hospital in Longbourne right now.” 

In the kitchen, Yuri’s parents and Victor receive the same news. He hears them clamouring around for their keys. For a moment, he feels genuinely overcome. 

“Otabek, I—

He stops himself before he has to find out the end to that sentence. 

“Thank you,” he says, and this time it isn’t at all quiet or begrudging. He hangs up quickly.

His family sits in one of the hospital’s outer rooms while they wait for Georgi to arrive. He’s conscious and walking when he gets there, accompanied on either side by figures in suits and sunglasses. He seems unharmed, but the investigators explain that the doctors have to make some checks, just to be sure. He’s allowed five minutes with his family—Lilia and Yakov both embrace him even as they yell at him—and then he’s whisked away to a private room. 

It’s a while before any kind of medical professional can see him, since he doesn’t appear to have any serious injuries. He spends that night at the hospital, while various doctors—including Katsuki himself—run their tests. Even if all the members of the Feltsman-Baranovskaya family are burning with curiosity (among other things), they’ve been instructed not to question him until he’s had a chance to rest a while. At one point, Yuri thinks he catches Michele Crispino leaving Georgi’s room, but he must be mistaken. 

They’re allowed to take him home early that morning, and after giving them all a tired greeting, he promptly falls asleep in the car. Once he’s awake and has been given his fair share of stern lectures and hugs alike, Lilia sits him down with a mug of tea to explain his side of the story. He sips in silence a moment, while the rest of the family waits, all huddled together around the kitchen table. 

“Anya broke up with me,” he starts. In any other circumstance Yuri would roll his eyes at this opener—it’s so very Georgi—but because his brother has been missing, he lets it slide. 

“I suppose I wasn’t in my right mind, after it happened. I kept pleading with her to take me back, but…” Here he stops to give a little sniffle, wiping his nose daintily with the corner of his napkin. 

“She got in touch with us earlier,” Yakov says. “She says you walked out.”

“I did. Without my phone, or my wallet, or any of my stuff. I was lost in a haze of grief. That night, I wandered the city without rest, and by morning, when my head had cleared a little, I had no idea where I was, and no phone or money to help me get back. I kept walking around, trying to find a trace of something familiar, but in the daylight everything was brand-new to me.”

“Foolish child,” Lilia murmurs, shaking her head, but there’s no venom in her voice, only a touch of aggravated fondness. “What did you do next? Was that when the investigators found you, or did that come later?”

“A little later,” Georgi says. He bows his head. “That night…I slept on a bench in a public park. I was too ashamed to go inside any buildings and attempt to explain myself.”

“Couldn’t you have asked for directions?” Yakov asks. “Found a public library, or something like that, with a free computer to shoot us an email saying you were alright?” 

Now Georgi definitely looks embarrassed. “It didn’t even occur to me then. I was still reeling from the breakup, I wasn’t thinking straight.”

In the kitchen, the kettle whistles, and Victor gets up to refill each of their cups. Lilia puts a hand on Georgi’s arm.

“Those officers who dropped you off at the hospital. Who were they?”

“You’re not going to believe this,” says Georgi, “but they work for Otabek Altin.”

“The man who lives in that house with Dr Katsuki and his roommate?”

Georgi nods. “The one Yuri hates. Anyway, apparently his family’s business is a fairly big player in the international technology development scene. Big enough that they can afford their own inspectors, at least.”

“I suppose we have to blame ourselves for all this,” Yakov says, turning to Lilia. “We should have raised our children with more sense.”

Georgi’s story _is_ thoroughly ridiculous, Yuri thinks, in the way only his family can be. But at least it’s over now.

“Don’t worry,” Georgi says. “I’m much calmer now. I’ve even found a job.”

Lilia’s ears prick up at that. “Oh yes?”

“At the hospital, a man came up and said a powerful acquaintance of his had recommended me for a position.”

“Who?”

“Apparently whoever it was wanted to stay anonymous. But whatever he said about me, it worked, because this guy said I can start as soon as I’m able. It’s a company out of town, but he says he knows someone I can room with.”

“Good,” says Yakov. “They can keep an eye on you.”

Georgi blushes. “I suppose.” 

“It’s a remarkable occurrence,” says Lilia, eyes narrowed, “that some stranger appears out of the blue to offer you a job. Did you see his credentials? What about his name?”

“He showed me his business card and license,” Georgi says. “His name is Mickey Crispino, I think.”

“Mickey Crispino…” She frowns. “Yuratchka, didn’t you know someone by that name once?”

“I did. He’s been trying to find someone to fill a post at his company for a while.”

His voice comes out odd and a little strained. He stands, pushing in his chair, but Lilia has already turned away from him. Everybody is so busy fussing over Georgi that they don’t notice him slip away. He trips up the stairs to his room, leaning back against the closed door. 

Georgi’s new job with Mickey’s company can’t be a coincidence. Otabek has something to do with it, Yuri’s sure, just like it’s his private investigators that found Georgi in the first place. Really, without Otabek’s help, this whole thing could’ve been a lot messier.

Does that put Yuri in his debt? Otabek would probably say no—he’d probably make the same offer as yesterday, that he’ll do whatever Yuri needs if he only asks, or something else stupid and kind of noble. Otabek Altin, noble. Yuri never would’ve thought.

And if he isn’t in Otabek’s debt, then where does this leave them? They can’t very well be enemies anymore. And if they aren’t enemies…Yuri doesn’t like to think about that. That’s territory he isn’t going to touch. 

There’s a knock at his door, and Victor pokes his head in.

“Mom’s actually baking a cake, if you’d like to join us.” He steps into the room, shutting the door after him. “What’s up?”

“What do you mean, what’s up?”

“Our dear brother has just returned to us, alive and unharmed, and you’re up here sulking.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“Whatever you say.” Victor takes a seat at his desk chair. “May I hazard a guess as to what this is about?” 

“If I say no,” says Yuri, “will you leave me alone?”

“Not a chance.”

“Damn.”

“If you ask me,” Victor says, ignoring his brother’s _but nobody did_ , “this is all about Otabek Altin.”

“Where’d you pick up that idea?”

“His P.I.’s are the ones who found Georgi. You can’t tell me you don’t have feelings about that.”

“I don’t. Feelings are overrated.”

Victor tries a new tactic. “Now that Georgi’s back, maybe Yuuri and I can finally go on a proper date.”

“What a caring person you are. Georgi goes missing and the first thing you think when he gets back is that you can _finally_ stop getting cockblocked by our family emergency.”

“Don’t use such filthy language, Yura, it doesn’t become you.”

Yuri rolls his eyes. “You sound like our mother.”

“You’re avoiding the point, you know.” Victor leans forward in his seat. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“You make it sound as if I’ve done something wrong.”

“I just think you might be in some denial, and that may not be healthy.”

“Eating chips for dinner every night is unhealthy. Me, I’m just fine.”

“You can keep telling yourself that,” says Victor, “but don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been these past few weeks.”

If Yuri shouts, the rest of his family will notice he’s gone and come to drag him back downstairs, so he swallows his frustration and folds his arms against his chest. 

“Enlighten me.”

“I think you like him.”

“I don’t hate him anymore,” Yuri says. “Why can’t that be enough for you?”

“Because I know it isn’t enough for you.”

“What do you want me to say? That I’ve dreamed about Otabek every night since London? That I’ve spent every day for the past few weeks regretting everything I’ve ever said to him?”

Victor holds his gaze. 

“Is it true?” he asks. Yuri bites his lip.

“Yes,” he says, voice hoarse and soft and not at all defiant like he intended. 

“Yura—

“I know what you’re going to say, and it doesn’t matter. He confessed his feelings for me once, and I humiliated him. I doubt he’ll make the same mistake again.” 

“If Mr Altin is willing to give up on you so easily,” says Victor, “I’m not sure I’d want you to pursue him.”

“Oh, because respecting my choices is such a bad thing.” Yuri sighs. “Give it up, Victor. I’m too late.”

“You can’t know that. It wasn’t too late for me and Yuuri, was it?”

“This is different.” 

“If you say so.” Victor sighs. “Listen, Yura. It pains me to admit it, but I’m not exactly an expert when it comes to this stuff. You saw how things almost went with Yuuri, but we worked through it because we communicated.”

“Actually, I communicated for you.”

“Fine. The point is, you should _talk_ to Otabek. He might be more understanding than you think, whether or not he returns your feelings.” 

There might be a grain of truth to his words, but Yuri refuses to acknowledge it. Otabek seems to be a relatively understanding person, but Yuri may already have pushed him past his limit. 

“It’s not just about my feelings,” he says. 

Victor raises an eyebrow at him. “No?” 

“Honestly…I’m embarrassed.” He turns his face away so Victor can’t see the blush of shame that has crept across his cheeks. “I spent so much time hating him, when none of it was justified.” He pauses. “Well…almost none of it.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Nothing. I told you, I’m keeping my lips sealed until this thing passes. It’s better for both of us that way.” 

“If that’s what you want.” Victor stands, and Yuri prays that this means he’s actually, finally leaving. “But I don’t think it is.”

If Yuri screams at him, they’ll hear downstairs, and then both of them will be caught, so he only glares at his brother. 

“Get out, before I say more things I’ll regret someday.” 

And for once in his life, Victor has the good sense to obey.

Yuri sinks back against the wall, knuckles digging into his temples, as if that’ll help him to think any better, or better yet, stop him from thinking entirely. 

Realistically, they shouldn’t even be friends, if that’s what they are now. Otabek has money and status and a degree, but Yuri’s just a university student who can’t even afford to move out of his parents’ house. Even if Otabek liked Yuri before, surely that was only a temporary affliction, now long faded after Yuri’s rejection and his return to life amidst the London social elite. No matter what Victor says, it really is better for the both of them like this. He can stomach this and move on.

And as many times as he repeats it, he can’t convince himself any better than he convinced Victor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the exception of Victor Extra Nikiforov, Georgi is absolutely 100% the most likely character to run off and disappear for two days because of romantic drama, and nothing will convince me otherwise


	10. Chapter 10

And just like that, the world begins, slowly, to return to normal. The school year ends, and Yuri takes a job at the university library. Georgi departs for his new career with Mickey, and Victor spends every waking moment—and some other moments, besides—giggling with Katsuki. Yuri is happy for them, of course, a _tiny_ bit, which he’ll never admit and Victor will have the grace never to mention, but he can’t help being sour about it, too. It’s in his nature, after all (and he definitely isn’t using his personality as an excuse).

Mila just laughs at him over the phone when he tells her about it.

“Go ahead,” he says, “make light of my misery.”

“Oh yeah? Maybe you wouldn’t be so miserable if you stopped being so harsh on Victor and started looking for a good time yourself.”

“Whatever,” Yuri says, and he has the sudden impulse to stick his tongue out at her, even if she can’t see it. “Between you and my brother, all this coupley stuff is insufferable.”

“I think you’re jealous,” she tells him primly. “Did you know that Sara surprised me with chocolate after work yesterday? I had to do overtime, but she left early, so she went out and bought treats from the shop down the road.”

“Good for you.”

“Don’t get facetious with me. I’ve figured out your secret.”

He snorts. “Which one?”

“That you’ve caught feelings for a certain Mr Otabek Altin.”

“Victor told you.” Yuri curses under his breath. “I’m going to kill him, one of these days.” 

“He didn’t tell me anything,” Mila says, and she sounds smug. “But now you’ve confirmed my suspicion. I’ve been teasing you about it for all these months, and look: it’s actually true.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. I’m not going to do anything about it.”

“Why not? He said he liked you before, didn’t he?”

“He did,” says Yuri. “ _Before_.”

He explains his current standing with Otabek to her, again, as well as all his reasons why making any kind of confession is a solidly Bad Idea. As usual, she doesn’t listen. She sounds so much like Victor that Yuri is forced to hang up, but then she just texts him to pester him further. She and Victor do have that in common—they’re both far too fond of meddling in his love life—but that doesn’t make him any more inclined to listen to their advice. 

On top of all the reasons he’s given the two of them, what feels like a thousand times, there’s another thing he’s only just thought to consider. At the rate things are going, Victor will probably move in with Katsuki soon. It’s a big house, with plenty of room for four, but with another person to split the rent, it’s a perfect opportunity for Otabek to head back to London. Surely he’s had enough time to clear his head by now, and it can’t be easy doing all his work from afar. 

Yuri draws the line at long-distance relationships. He can do that much, at least. (It can’t keep him from pining, in the manner his ridiculous family seems prone to, but he tries not to think about that.)

A couple weeks later, Victor makes the announcement over dinner. Yakov and Lilia are elated, and least partially just because it means he’ll finally be out of the house, and because Katsuki has money. But Yuri thinks his parents are happy for Victor, too. 

Moving him out is a hassle, and Yuri complains the whole way, but afterwards he feels weird and restless, until even his parents note that he seems more frustrated than usual. It takes him a few days to figure out what it is. As much as they fought, the house feels perceptibly emptier without his two brothers. 

He won’t say a word about it when Victor calls, of course. 

“Yuraaaaaa. I _miss_ you.”

“We’re neighbours, Victor. It’s not like you decided to get in touch with your heritage and go back to Russia.”

All the same, Yuri goes to visit him the next weekend. Victor and his boyfriend cook, Phichit serves, and the four of them talk for a while together. Otabek is, apparently, still asleep. When Yuri raises an eyebrow, Phichit informs him that he had a DJ gig the night before. 

“He didn’t get in until around five,” Phichit says. “I knew he had a few jobs before in London, but I had no idea he’d keep it up in a small town like this.”

There are really only two or three establishments Otabek could have been at, and one of those is a late-night coffee bar. None of them are places that Yuri frequents, but he wishes, fleetingly, that he’d torn himself away from his book and gone out. 

“That must have been quite a sight. You should have been there, Yura.”

Yuri glares at his brother, but Victor turns away to feed something to Katsuki and takes no notice. Yuri sinks back in his seat, still scowling. Phichit catches him at it and shakes his head. 

“Are you really so bent on disliking him?”

“Otabek isn’t the one I have a problem with,” Yuri says darkly, throwing Victor a dirty look. Phichit just laughs. 

The rest of the meal passes in much the same way. After lunch there is cake, and Yuri finds it in him to compliment Katsuki on his cooking, which Victor takes as an opportunity to launch into an annoying speech about how _totally amazing_ his boyfriend is, while Katsuki’s face grows steadily redder. After that, Victor is quiet for a bit, and Yuri should have known it meant he was about to change targets. 

“You know, I bet Otabek’s awake by now, if you want to see him,” Victor says, and has the audacity to wink. Yuri glowers at him. 

“As it happens, I do need to speak with him about something.” He doesn’t even need to glance at Victor to know he’s waggling his eyebrows. “It is absolutely _not_ what you’re thinking, you prat. I just need to clear something up.”

Katsuki looks between the two of them curiously, and Phichit already has his phone out under the table. This is Yuri’s cue to leave as quickly as possible, before he gets in over his head. 

He scoops up all the dirty plates on the table, ignoring Victor’s pleas for him to come back, and dumps them in the sink. He should wash them, but every second he spends down here is an opportunity for the others to catch up with him, so he decides he’ll do it later and heads upstairs. 

He’s never been in Otabek’s room before. He hesitates a moment before knocking on the door, as if doing so will tear down some final unseen barrier, but then he reminds himself that he’s Yuri-freaking-Plisetsky, and he will not be intimidated by something as stupid as this. 

Otabek answers him right away.

“Yuri.”

He must have just come out of the shower; his hair is wet and his shirt’s only half-buttoned. This, too, embarrasses Yuri, but of course he pretends not to notice. It reminds him of when he and Victor stayed at Netherfield for the first time, when Otabek walked in on him changing. 

“I wanted…

He loses his nerve at Otabek’s expression, softer than the one he usually wears, caught off-guard. 

“Yes?”

Yuri balls his fists and tries again. “I just—I wanted to thank you, okay? For what you did for Georgi.”

“Not just for Georgi,” Otabek says. “For you. And…and the rest of your family, of course.”

“Of course.”

“I’m just glad someone was able to find him.”

“We all are.” Yuri cocks his head, giving him an impudent look. “Why do you need your own private investigators anyway?”

“Plenty of reasons. Tracking down evidence of espionage, corporate scandal, protection against saboteurs from other companies.”

“There’s no way other businesses actually send out people to infiltrate you.”

“It’s happened before, though not during my time as director.” Otabek shrugs. “A multi-national entity that deals in the latest technological advancements is bound to have its enemies.” 

“And here I thought office life was boring.”

“Only if you’re doing it wrong.”

Yuri almost thinks Otabek is going to smile at him, but he catches himself and turns his face.

“Have you thought about where you’ll end up after school, Yuri?”

“Extensively. That won’t be for a while, though, I still need graduate training.”

“Anywhere special in mind?”

“A few places.” Yuri bites his lip. “I’m applying to UCL, but that’s in the city. I would love to live in London, but it’d be a big change.”

Otabek raises a challenging eyebrow at him. “Who is Yuri Plisetsky to be afraid of change?”

Yuri shoves him. “Who says I’m afraid? If there’s anything I’m in fear of, it’s the strain on my wallet.” 

“Of course.”

“Otabek?”

“Hmm.”

Yuri pauses, then presses forward. 

“I know it wasn’t just the investigators you were responsible for,” he says. 

He expects Otabek to try denying it, but he only sighs.

“I thought you’d figure that out.” 

“How much did you pay Mickey?”

“Enough.” Otabek pauses. “I didn’t _just_ pay him. I talked to him about it, to make sure he knew why.”

Yuri raises an eyebrow. “And he let you?”

“Eventually,” Otabek says, “with a great amount of reluctance. The money helped.” 

Yuri shakes his head. “I would’ve thought that sort of thing was illegal.”

“Legal or not,” says Otabek, “everyone does it.”

That doesn’t really excuse anything, but Georgi is now taken care of, so Yuri lets it pass. He ignores the wedge that has lodged itself in his chest ever since Otabek’s casual remark— _to make sure he knew why._ Against what Yuri ever would have thought in the past, perhaps Otabek was simply being a nice person. 

In his heart, though, that “why” has been troubling him for weeks now, but he definitely isn’t going to ask Otabek about it. So he lets this pass too.

With nothing left to discuss on the subject, neither of them is quite sure what to do next. Not for the first time—though perhaps for the first time he’s been willing to admit—Yuri doesn’t want to leave Otabek’s side. 

“There’s tea downstairs,” his host offers hesitantly. “We could have some, if you’d like.”

Yuri nods. “Been a while since I had tea here.”

They don’t speak as Otabek prepares their drinks. Yuri scrounges up a couple of cups for them, and then, without having to discuss it, they duck into the library. Yuri can hear Victor and Katsuki’s laughter from the parlour, but it feels distant, muted against the quiet of the room. Yuri takes a sip of his tea. Otabek coughs. It occurs to Yuri that this is the first time they’ve ever hung out—really hung out, that is, and not stumbled through awkward conversation when seated next to one another during a gathering, or danced together in the middle of a party or a club in London, or toured Pemberley together, or…

Thinking about it now, Yuri has spent rather a lot of time alone with Otabek—or, alone-ish—but today something about it is different. Maybe it’s because no one is nearby breathing down their necks, even if Nosy-Victor is just in the other room, or maybe it’s because until this point he’s been staunchly ignoring the way Otabek’s eyes narrow when he’s amused and trying not to show it. 

Right now, Otabek’s eyes are on his teacup, and his brows are drawn together, as though he’s lost in thought. He glances up and catches Yuri staring at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.” But Yuri doesn’t look away. “What are you thinking about?” 

“If you want the truth,” says Otabek, “I’m surprised.”

“Go on.”

“You haven’t yelled at me once in the past twenty minutes.”

Yuri flushes. 

“I’m…” He falters, and then shakes his head. It’s silly to have reservations about this now. “…I’m sorry. For all the times I yelled at you in the past. Or… _most_ of them, anyway.”

Otabek gives him a full grin this time, and Yuri’s pulse stutters. 

“I can accept that apology.”

An electric silence falls between them. Yuri takes a sip of his tea, which is still too hot, and ignores the way it scalds his throat. Otabek does the same, but he must swallow the wrong way, because he erupts into a coughing fit. Yuri starts to go to him, but Otabek waves him off. 

“Now I have something to tell you,” he says, once the coughs have subsided, though his eyes are still watering a little. He takes his time with the next bit, and Yuri waits.

“Yuri,” he says, and stops. He tries again. “Yuri, I…I know this is something I’ve told you before, and you probably don’t want to hear it from me, but I had to say it.”

At some point while he speaks, Yuri thinks his heart stops beating. Otabek takes a step closer to him.

“Over the past few months we’ve become friends, I think, and I’m very grateful for that. To have had the opportunity to know you…I don’t think you can understand how much that means to me.”

“All this, coming from someone who saved my brother.”

“I still feel the same way for you as I did back in January. If this is unacceptable to you then I swear I will never speak another word on the subject, but if, by some chance, you find your mind has changed…

Just then, Phichit bursts into the room. Otabek stumbles back quickly, swivelling around to face the window. Yuri could scream.

Phichit, of course, is oblivious. “There you two are! Come on, we’re going to play a game. Won’t you join us?” 

He’s halfway to them when Victor pokes his head around the doorway. He gives Yuri a very significant look, pointing discretely at the phone in his hand, and Yuri glances down to his own. Sure enough, there’s a new message from his brother. _I believe I still owe you a favour._

_You’re eight months overdue_ , Yuri replies, and across the room, Victor grins at him.

“Phichit,” he says, “my darling Yuuri.” He claps his arms around their shoulders. “It’s such a warm day out. Why don’t we walk into town for ice cream?”

“But it’s raining,” Katsuki says. 

“And we already had dessert,” Phichit says.

“It’ll be my treat.” And before either of them can protest further, Victor marches them out of the room. A few minutes later, Yuri hears him lock the front door. 

He turns back to Otabek, who won’t look at him. He takes a few hesitant steps forward, and puts his hand on Otabek’s shoulder. The other boy does face him, then. His expression is carefully guarded, though Yuri thinks he catches a flash of fear in his eyes. 

“Otabek,” he says. “Thank you for what you’ve told me.”

He nods, resigned. “But you’re not interested.”

“That’s not it at all, I…

And then, because Yuri has always been better at action than words, he pulls Otabek in by the collar and kisses him. 

Otabek is too startled to move at first, but after it sinks in he’s quick to respond, hands moving from Yuri’s hair to his waist to his hips, pressing him back towards the wall. Yuri makes to nip at his jawline, but Otabek pulls back, his composure regained and the hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips. In all their time together, Yuri has never known him to be this cocky. It’s enough to make him feel as though he should be sitting down. 

“You’re such a tease,” he mutters, which only makes the smirk grow. 

“Am I?” 

And Yuri can’t resist kissing him just one (two, three) more times, but when he leans in again, Otabek puts a hand against his chest.

“I think we should talk.”

Yuri lets out a long breath, but he nods. “Yeah. We probably should.”

They sit together on the couch, and Yuri texts Victor to tell him to take as long as possible with that ice cream. His brother replies with an obscene string of emojis, and Yuri chucks his phone across the room. 

“So,” says Yuri, “you’re still a DJ.”

For some reason this strikes Otabek as incredibly funny, and it’s the first time that Yuri has actually heard him laugh, deep and rich and so inviting that he has to join in. For a few minutes it’s all they can do, but eventually they grow serious again. 

“Is that your answer?” Otabek asks. Yuri kicks his shin. 

“Did I leave any room for doubt?”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s something you usually do,” Otabek mutters, cheeks going red, and Yuri kisses them each in turn.

“I don’t,” he says. “Do this often, I mean. Otabek, I want to be with you. I’ve wanted it for a while, even if I didn’t realize it, but I thought…I thought _you_ wouldn’t want to be with me.”

“You’re right,” says Otabek. “When someone sends their personal private investigators after your missing brother, and pays off the company of their former rival in order to get him a job, it’s usually in the name of friendship.” 

“It _could_ be.” Yuri pauses. “To be honest, Otabek, you’ve done so much for me and my family. I don’t see what I did to deserve any of it.”

“Deserve?” Otabek shakes his head. “I couldn’t tell you what either of us deserves. What I do know is that ever since we met you’ve continued to challenge me, which was difficult at first, but it has helped me to learn and to grow. I don’t often allow myself to feel this way about anyone, not since the consequences of my relationship with Sara, but you were too stubborn for that ever to be a possibility.”

“But you called me _tolerable_.”

“You heard that?” He looks embarrassed. “I was wrong, then. I admit it.”

“About damn time.” Yuri grins at him, and then remembers his other concerns. “But in the future—

“What does the future matter? You’ll go to school in London or you won’t, I’ll return to work in London or I won’t. It doesn’t make much difference either way. We’ll adjust as we need to.”

When he puts it like that, it really does seem a lot more reasonable. Yuri tucks his feet up on the edge of the couch and leans his head against Otabek’s shoulder.

“You won’t grow too prestigious for me, being the head of your fancy tech company and all.”

“I’ll quit and achieve my teenage dream of becoming a DJ full-time,” Otabek tells him, ruffling his hair. “And then you’ll be the one who’s too prestigious for me. Yuri Plisetsky: the most sought-after architect-slash-dancer of the modern era.”

Yuri shoves him, but can’t help a grin.“That doesn’t sound so bad.” 

“No?”

“For the moment, of course…

Yuri presses his lips to the hollow of Otabek’s neck, and Otabek shifts back, hands already moving to the hem of Yuri’s t-shirt. Then the front door slams, and Yuri sighs, tearing himself away. “Or not.”

Otabek takes his hand. “Should we tell them right away, do you think?”

“Let’s make them guess,” says Yuri. “See how long it takes them. It’ll drive Victor _mad_.”

And Otabek smiles at him again, full of mischievous agreement, and Yuri thinks that this is as happy as he’s ever been about anything. 

And so, together, they go out to meet their friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh it’s finished! Even if I outlined the whole thing ahead of time, I’m not sure it turned out quite like I intended, but some of that (at least I hope) ended up being for the better. Thank you so much for reading this—it’s been fun to write and to rediscover my love for one of my favourite period romances, and I hope you all have enjoyed this story too


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